


A snuffed spark.

by Queen_Clem



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Clem/pseuds/Queen_Clem
Summary: Many moons ago, during the start of a bitter leafbare, Bluefur gave birth to four healthy kits: Mistykit, Stonekit, Mosskit, and little Firekit.With the deputy weakening and Thistleclaw snapping for a bloody leadership, she had to choose between her clan and her kin.Unfortunately for little Firekit, Bluefur was always wanted the best for Thunderclan. It’s what Starclan wants, right? She was meant to be Thunderclans leader.No matter the costs.
Comments: 44
Kudos: 209





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always do genderswapped Firestar, just letting y’all know before ya start reading.

The cold wind slapped against Firekits whiskers in a violent breeze, forcing her eyes to narrow against its power. 

Ahead of her, she could barely make out the forms of her family in the blinding blizzard. Mosskit, her littlest sister, was just ahead of her, shivering in the snow. Her ears were flat to her head and she let out the occasional miserable whimper.

Firekit shared her feelings. Bluefur, her mama, had said this would be a fun game, that they’d patrol like warriors! This wasn’t fun anymore though, she was cold and hungry and she wanted Thrushpelt!

“Only a little further!” She could dimly make out Bluefurs words. 

“We have to keep moving,” Bluefur insisted when they stopped in their exhaustion. She fished Stonekit out of a drift. Snow had clumped to his fur and slowed him down. Firekit looked to her own fur, feeling the snow weighing her down as well. 

“I don’t want to play this game anymore!” Mistykit wailed. Stonekit didn’t try to change her mind. He just crouched beside her, shivering so much that Firekit could hear his teeth rattling. Her own shivering was slowing, though she felt no warmer. 

“Just a bit farther,” Bluefir urged them all, looking them over pleadingly. 

Stonekit sat down and stared at her. “I can’t feel my paws,” he announced. “How can I walk if I don’t know where my paws are?” Mosskit and Mistykit huddled together. They looked as if they couldn’t even feel their pelts. 

Behind them, Firekit struggled to reach them, the snow building around her tiny form as she tried to follow them. 

An owl hooted and Firekit watched curiously as Bluefur stiffened, scanning the treetops and gathering them closer. She liked owls, even if the elders said they were dangerous. They made that funny noise. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Bluefur told them. Digging with her ice-numb paws, she scooped a hole in the snow underneath some ferns. “In you go,” she encouraged. Firekit and her littermates stumbled in and clustered into a small, shivering clump. At least they were out of the wind now. 

“I’ll be back for you in a moment.” Bluefur bounded a tree-length away and dug another hole, then hurried back to them. Firekit felt a small bolt of fear, though it was heavily dulled by her sluggish mind. 

“Where did you go?” Mistykit wailed, battering Firekit as she stepped onto her to better look up at their panicked mother. 

Mosskit’s eyes were wide with fear. “We thought you weren’t coming back!” 

Bluefur’s face twisted in an expression Firekit had never seen on her before.. “Oh, my precious kits,” she murmured. “I’ll always come back.” The words comforted them all and they settled to wait patiently for whatever was to happen next in this miserable game. 

Swallowing hard, Bluefur carried them one at a time to the next snow-hole, and pushed on alone to dig another. Little by little, snow-hole by snow-hole, they drew nearer Sunningrocks. 

Firekit didn’t fight her. Her limbs were stiff, she could swear they’d turned to ice as Bluefur lifted her up for the last time. The snow had come up to her chest and now she could see the frost that clumped in her short fur. She was more white than ginger!

Bluefur let out a concerned mew, shaking her a bit. Firekit swung limply in her jaws, completely exhausted. 

She was so, so cold. She’d never been this cold or tired in her life! She didn’t even have the strength to shiver anymore.

Mosskits fur brushed hers as she was laid down in their tiny den. Bluefur settled next to them, wrapping her tail over them to provide some protection from the harsh wind.

“Don’t worry little ones,” she murmured, lapping at their pelts, “Oakheart will be here soon.”

Firekit didn’t recognize the name but she couldn’t care to try. Her siblings voices sounded around her, warping with the wind in slow, slurred ways. She couldn’t even begin to understand them anymore. She could barely even see them for how tired she was! 

She tried to move away as Bluefur moved to lap the sparkling frost from her fur. Her breath was warm but her tongue was only making Firekit colder!

 _’I-I’m Fire!’_ She thought stubbornly, curling up tighter, _’So why am I freezing?’_

Beside her, she noticed that Mosskit had ceased her violent shuddering. Her breath was coming in slow, deep pulls that puffed out before her muzzle in thin clouds.

Had Firekit not been numb to the bone herself, she’d have noticed how Mosskits fur crinkled when she pressed against it to offer what little heat was left in her tiny body.

“Don’t worry Mosskit,” Firekit mumbled tiredly, her eyes beginning to droop, “We’ll go home soon.” 

Slowly, the whistle of the angry wind that battered her ears died away into a tranquil silence and the biting ache of ice dulled into a pleasant warmth. The hunger that had gnawed at her belly for the entirety of her short life faded away and she felt the weakness that had accompanied it wither to be replaced by new strength.

Purring lightly, Firekit let her eyes slip shut. She was still so tired, much too tired for this silly game. Besides, they’d have all the time to play when they got home. 

All was quiet in that peaceful darkness for a long time, though she could feel the shuffling around her from her mother and siblings. She let out a long, contented sigh, then let herself slip fully into the deep slumber that called her.

A prod to her back awakened her after what felt like only moments. Letting out a mew of anger, Firekit shuffled away, trying to burrow deeper against her mothers side.

“Firekit.” A gentle voice cooed, “Come now, it’s time to wake up. We must be going.”

Glancing up at this new voice, she could only stare in awe. It was a cat, that much she was certain of, though she’d never seen one like this. It looked as if their pelt was carved from the night sky itself, with dozens upon dozens of dazzling stars dancing within it.

Unable to help herself, she stumbled up from her nap, surprised at the strength in her legs as she hopped toward this new toy.

She’d never been this strong before!

The cat let out a purr at her star-struck gazing, sweeping their fluffy tail to curl around her. “Are you ready to go?” They asked, their voice a comforting melody to the young kits ears.

_”Firekit!”_

“Go?” She echoed back at them, tipping her head, “Go where? home?” Her tail fluffed up at the thought of returning to Thunderclan and it’s warm nursery. She grinned. Mousekit and Runningkit would be so jealous that she’d gotten to leave camp first.

_”Firekit please, wake up! Please!”_

The cats face contorted, pity lacing itself through it and it twisted into an ugly wince in a poor effort to contain it. Firekit paid it no mind, looking her pelt over instead. It felt strange, like it was being groomed frantically though no one was touching her.

_”There’s warmth and safety just on the other side of the river. Your father will look after you, I promise. Just a little bit further my tiny, brave, daughter!”_

“No, little one.” The stranger sighed at last, “Come, I’ll explain on the way.” He leaned down, his teeth aiming for her scruff.

Firekit backed away, crouching down in the snow. Huh. It didn’t crunch beneath her like it had before. How curious. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers. Lemme ask mama first.” She tried to do just that but the tom stopped her, wrapping her up in his fluffy tail tighter.

_”This wasn’t supposed to happen, she wasn’t supposed to die!”_

“Well, I’m mainly known as The Judge or perhaps you know me by the name Silverpelt.” Firekits ears pricked up at that. 

She knew that name! “That’s what Bluefur calls the night sky, she said its where our a-ancestors live in Starclan!” She trilled, stumbling over the large word.

The cat smiled down at her but she caught the flash of rage that crossed his face at the mention of her mama. “Yes, that’s right little one but you needn’t use that name. It’s not my true one. You can call me Graywing and I’m here to help you to Starclan.”

Firekit froze, every limb tensing as she gazed up at her companion. Slowly, she turned, resisting his attempts to stop her. Her nonexistent breathe abandoned her.

_”Starclan please, give her back!”_

Everything was almost as she had left it. Bluefur was curled in their snow den but a new tom had appeared. Mistykit, Stonekit, and Mosskit were trembling beneath his belly fur, mewling in confusion and distress.

It fell on deaf ears. The two adults were in shambles, short sobs leaving both their mouths. “Mama?” Firekit mewed, hopping over Graywings tail to crawl closer, “Mama, who’s this? What’s wrong?”

Confusion was twirling inside of her mind. Neither of them were looking at her or answering her. They kept prodding at a still lump next to Bluefurs hind leg.

Firekit could only stare in confused horror at the sight of her own body. Snow had almost completely covered her pelt but, of course, she made no move to shake it off. She looked as if she was asleep.

“How can I be here and there?” She asked thinly, her voice going high in her distress. She turned to Graywing, hoping he could help her. He was still looking at her, he would answer her!

His head was bowed, much like Larksongs had been when Mumblefoot had been carried from the camp one cold morning. “I’m sorry, Firekit.“ his voice was tangled in the agony of sorrow.

“You got too cold.”

It took a long time to process. She stayed the whole time with Graywing at her side. 

She watched as the strange tom, Oakheat as Graywing had told her, left with her siblings. She watched as Bluefur dug at the frozen ground until her paws were raw and her claws had ripped but she could not bring herself to watch as her body was buried. 

“Firekit, are you ready to go?” Graywing murmured softly as Bluefur patted a few last pawfuls of dirt into place. “There are many cats who wish to meet you.”

“What about my family?” She whispered, watching Bluefur begin to stumble away, her pitiful wails stinging Firekits still heart.

Graywings muzzle brushed her ear, “They’ll join us some day. Until then, Starclan will care for you. They’ll be okay.” He reassured her.

Firekit was not reassured. She was not reassured at all. Looking over the river where her siblings had disappeared too then into the depths of the forest where her mama had stumbled off to. She turned a sad stare toward Graywing.

“T-they’ll be okay.” She nodded toward the river, “She won’t be.” She trembled from her shock, standing and shaking off his starry tail. “No. No, I’m not ready. I’m not done yet. Not yet.” as if in a dream, she began to follow her mothers pawsteps, despite how quickly they were filling with the rapidly falling snow.

She heard Graywings voice crack with panic behind her, “Firekit, stop!” She didn’t want to but a tugging in her chest forced her too. Looking back to him, she could see they were connected by a thin white line.

“I can only lead you once. Please, please, they’ll be okay. Just come with me, alright? You can still watch over them, just not here.” He pleaded, taking a step toward her, “I’m here for you, I’ll help you. If you feel your journeys not over, that’s okay. We’ll figure it out, together.”

His pretty words were all too tempting. Maybe he was right. Perhaps, if this was how it was meant to be, she should just accept it. Firekit looked down at the white line connecting them to each other thoughtfully.

Then she raised a claw and slashed through it.

Graywings strained, smiling, face shattered to crestfallen in a heartbeat. The forest began to show behind him as his starry form rapidly faded away, “I can never come back to you.” He mourned as the last wisps of his form melted away into the shadows of the blizzard.

Firekit swallowed hard, breathing in the air she no longer needed entirely too fast. She’d rejected Starclan. She couldn’t go there, she could never go there! 

Shaking her head, she tried to calm herself down. That was okay. She didn’t need Starclan. She had Bluefur and Bluefur had her. Even if she didn’t know it. With a squeal of joy at the new strength in her paws, she turned and began rushing after her mother.

The game was finally over, she was going home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am weak, I made another story.
> 
> Firestar( Firekit) has taken Mosskits place as Bluestars dead kit.
> 
> So, oh no, how’s fire gonna save the clan now??
> 
> Welp, being a little ghost that now haunts Thunderclan doesn’t mean she can’t save them, right?
> 
> Right??


	2. Chapter 2

“They’re gone, they’re gone!” Firekit arrived at the camp just in time to hear Bluefurs echoing howls. Hesitantly, she leapt down one stone on the ravine, desperate to get to her poor mother. 

To her surprise and excitement, she did not tumble down every stone. She remained floating in the air, her paws ghosting over the stone she had been aiming for. 

A breathless giggle left her. “I can fly!” She leaned from side to side, spinning in a circle. She was like a bird! 

Another wail and the sound of paws charging from the camp drew her attention away from her strange new talent. Cats were pouring from the camp, tearing up the ravine towards her. 

”Hurry, they’ll freeze out there!” She recognized Sunstars voice as the golden tom raced at the head of the patrol. Even if he could’ve heard her, she wouldn’t have had the heart to tell him that she had already froze and her siblings probably weren’t far behind. 

That was okay though, she missed them horribly. Besides they could come here to play after. Tag would be so much more fun when they could soar across the sky. 

The warriors weren’t there to play with her though, she didn’t even think they could see her with how fast they were coming. Then again, Bluefur hadn’t seen her either. 

Bluefur. 

Whining, she tried to run down the stones, wanting to curl up beside her mama. Her paws stayed firmly over the stone as the warriors pounded closer and closer to her helpless form. Starclan help her, How did she move? 

Twisting around, she managed to stumble her way through the air. “Let me down!” She squealed, thrusting all her weight toward the camp wall. To her surprise, she shot down, crashing toward it like she would have earlier this night when she had a body. 

”Bluefur, help!” She screeched, covering her eyes with her paws as she soared toward the dry, prickly, gorse tunnel. 

A shudder passed through her as she felt herself collide with the thorns. They ripped through her form harmlessly, a sensation that Firekit would never be able to explain.

Standing up, she instinctively shook her pelt but the snow had not clumped in her fur. It was as sleek and shiny as it had been when Graywing awakened her. 

Around her, the camp was in shambles. Cats called out orders, their voices dying out in the violent wind before Firekit could hear them. Outside the nursery, Bluefur was crumbled against White-eye, her chest heaving in great sobs. 

Behind them, Mousekit and Runningkit were crouched together under Sparrowpelts protective belly, their matching yellow eyes tinted with confusion and grief. 

Sparrowpelts eyes were scanning the camp and his ears pricked up as he drew his kits tighter against him. Though White-eye was speaking to Bluefur, Firekit could see her one working eye was locked on her own kits, filled with fear and worry. 

”Why is everyone so worried?” She asked cheerfully, hopping up to glide over the troublesome snow. She wobbled a bit in the cold air but managed to get the hang of it. It seemed she need only to tilt to where she wanted to go. 

Looking around, she spotted her cousin, Whitestorm, pressing his nose to Thrushpelts shoulder briefly before dashing from the camp, his strides tearing up pawfuls of powdery snow in his haste. 

Thrushpelt stared after him, his face blank in shock. A cry bubbled in his chest and poured from his mouth. “Firekit! Mistykit! Stonekit, Mosskit!” He howled, dashing from den to den, “Where are you?!” He skidded to a stop beside the medicine den at Tawnyspots insistence. 

”I’m right here. Mistykit, Stonekit, and Mosskit are with Oakheart!” She told him happily, twirling around his shoulders. “You should go get them now, I think the game’s over and Bluefur looks like she misses them.” 

The light tom didn’t move, his face was trained to the black sky where dozens upon dozens of stars twinkled coldly, shining a dim light down upon the camp, the look on his twisted muzzle was one of pure grief and horror. 

”Daddy, come on!” Firekit insisted, sinking to the ground and pulling on his paw with her own tiny ones, “I want my littermates back! They need to come home where it’s warm!” 

She didn’t add herself to this but it didn’t matter. She was still so cold, she didn’t think even going to the nursery would warm her now. She didn’t want to think about what exactly had happened to her but one thing she knew was things wouldn’t be the same. 

Bluefur had said Mumblefoot had went to Starclan too and she had never seen him again but that didn’t mean he’d left. Maybe, like her, he was still around, just unseen and unheard. If this was what had to happen to go to Starclan, why did everyone speak so fondly of it? It wasn’t nice, she just felt ignored. 

Her clanmates weaved past her, some even went through her, without paying her a passing glance. Her cheerful instructions went unheard and even the brush of her fur against Thrushpelts leg seemed unfelt. It only made him shudder. 

Flinching lightly, she looked around the camp, seeing that not one eye was trained on her. They swiveled around the camp, looking for a flash of gray or ginger fur. Other pairs were drawn to the nursery where grief-stricken howls could be heard. 

Firekit recognized her mamas voice. ”Bluefur?” She bounded over to the nursery entrance, peeking into it hopefully, “Can you see me now?” A note of desperation poked through her fake joy. 

Her mama did not react to her voice. She was curled up in her nest with White-eye gently tucking the moss tightly around her. “Shh-shhh,” the older queen cooed, lapping at Bluefurs ear, “They’ll be okay, Sunstar will find them and shred whatever fox dared to take them.” 

Firekit giggled, “Bluefur took us, silly!” She squeaked, tumbling through the air to land on her nest, “We patrolled like real warriors but Graywing says I got too cold so I had to go. I don’t want to go though. Not yet.” She spread herself over Bluefurs tail, which unsurprisingly only made the gray queen shudder harder. 

Feeling a pang of guilt, she rolled away to lay down next to Bluefurs forepaw and propped her chin up on her small paws. Neither molly reacted to her presence though she did note that Runningkits head snapped toward her before he blinked, gazing around in confusion. 

“I just got here.” Firekit continued, stretching out as far as her short body could manage. She’d never had this much space before! Usually, Stonekit would be kicking her by now. 

She could feel herself draining as she looked at her mother, ignoring the two queens conversations. Tonight had been so strange and she was tired. She couldn’t seem to sleep no matter how had she tried though. 

By the time she gave up on it, Bluefur had curled up into a ball, her whole body shaking with grief as she let out huffing cries. White-eye murmured something about helping with the search then vanished, taking Mousekit and Runningkit with her. Neither of them glanced back at her. 

Bluefur let one eye peel open to watch her denmate retreat then let it slip shut once she was certain the she-cat had left fully. “Starclan, please forgive me,” she prayed, pressing her face into her paws. 

“ _Firekit_ please forgive me.” She continued, “I-I’m so s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry but he couldn’t be leader. He would’ve destroyed us.” She was beginning to mumble incoherently, her shock setting in. 

Firekit didn’t respond. She let her eyes drift to the side as Bluefur slowly slipped into a fitful sleep. Finally, she let herself accept what was happening. 

Whatever had happened to Mumblefoot had happened to her. No one could see or hear her anymore, no matter how loud she chattered. Even Bluefur was deaf to her calls. 

This wasn’t fun, none of it was but Firekit was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, there had never been a game to play in the first place. 

Bluefur had seemed so worried during their walk. She must of known there was a chance they’d get too cold. So why bring them out there in the first place? Why couldn’t she just have let them sleep? 

If she had, Firekit wouldn’t be wide awake beside her, unheard, unseen, and apparently unable to sleep!

Her anger died out as quick as it had come. Bluefur obviously didn’t mean for Firekit to get too cold. In fact, she seemed pretty distraught over it. That didn’t lift Firekits spirits though. 

What good did both of them regretting it do? It was still done. 

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Bluefur moaned miserably in her sleep, twisting in a nightmare. Her fur began to clump and her claws unsheathed, digging into the nest. 

Firekit rested her tiny paw over her mothers, her eyes still locked on the opposite wall sadly, “Don’t worry, mama.” She tried to reassure. 

”I’m still here.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed quickly. Firekit had no idea if it was due to her current state or if she had just never had the time in her short life to realize how quickly it moved. 

A moon had come and gone since her night in the cold snow. Firekit had spent most of it in the nursery, avoiding the clearing as much as possible. Not that anyone missed her. They’d been sad of course and, for some reason, believed a fox had stolen her and her littermates. 

She didn’t understand why Bluefur didn’t tell them that her littermates were with Oakheart. After all, she seemed to miss them more and more with every day that passed. Firekit had tried to tell them, she even tried to lead the patrols there but much to her dismay, no one even twitched at her yells. 

She couldn’t fault her clanmates for ignoring her but it still stung. 

Bluefur stayed with her in the nursery most days but today she had ventured out of camp with Sunstar, ignoring Adderfangs request to patrol. 

Tentatively, Firekit followed her out into the clearing, trailing behind her. The snow had begun to melt so she didn’t need to float now, though she still did occasionally. 

When Bluefur disappeared from her sight, she sighed and began to trail around the camp. She was so bored! There was no one to play with or talk to anymore. 

With a dejected sigh, she turned to go back to her nest, her tail dragging the ground. There was no point to being out here. Nursery or clearing, no one could see her. There was no difference. 

Mousekit and Runningkit were playing mossball outside of the nursery as Firekit approached it. The toy flew past her and she instinctively tried to snag it from the air as it arched over her head. It didn’t even stutter in it’s path as it passed through her paw. 

Lowering her her head as Mousekit and Runningkit charged past her, she decided that perhaps she was too old for mossball. She was a big kit now, even if she still looked the same. 

She didn’t think she was getting any bigger or changing at all. At almost three moons old, she should’ve been much bigger with new teeth. 

She still only had the nubs on her gums and her limbs were still short and tubby. Even her ears remained slightly folded. It annoyed her to her limits! 

She looked over to Rosetail, who was munching on a mouse, enviously. What did prey taste like? Milk had been good but she’d been so excited to try real prey. 

She’d never had the chance.

”I wish you guys could still talk to me.” She mumbled, laying on the ground in the shadows of the nursery. “It’s lonely now. I miss my brother and sisters.” Her voice caught, “I miss Bluefur and Thrushpelt playing with me and Whitestorm giving me badger rides.” 

”Sometimes, I wish I went with Graywing. At least there’d be other cats in Starclan. You’re still here but....it’s not the same.” She rolled over, letting out a whimper. She wished she could sleep but she never tired even if she ran around camp all day and night.

She was dozing, watching her old clanmates lazily when a sharp intake of breath sounded behind her. “F-Firekit?” 

She whipped around so fast that her neck popped. Behind her, standing in the cool entrance of the elders den, was Goosefeather. 

He was a strange one, a tad crazy as her mother had warned, but Firekit had never personally met him. She didn’t think she’d want too even if she’d had the chance. 

Now though, after a moon of isolation, she could have wailed with joy when his crazed blue eyes locked with her own. He could _see_ her! 

He didn’t seem as happy as her though. ”No, no, no.” He mumbled, shrinking away from her. “Not you, Mosskit, it was supposed to be Mosskit. Starclan, what have you done?!” Pure horror covered the toms face. 

Firekit, unable to contain herself, glided toward him. “You can see me, you can really see me!” She squealed happily, trailing around him, “No ones been able to see me!” 

”What happened to you?” Goosefeather groaned, his voice choking, “This wasn’t your destiny. You weren’t meant to _die_!” 

Firekit stilled at the words, her cheerful purr trailing then dying off. She didn’t like that word. She didn’t like to think that she was dead, rather she liked to think she’d simply changed. 

”Graywing says I got too cold.” She grumbled, settling down with a pout. How rude could this tom be? She was curious about his smelly, clumped, fur but she wasn’t going to say anything!

Goosefeather stared at her, trembling lightly, then he began to cackle. It was a harsh, grating sound that didn’t sit well with Firekit at all. 

”We’re going to drown in blood,” The old medicine grinned, his tortured eyes locked on two cats across the clearing, “Because our ancestors saw fit to kill the cat meant to save us!” 

Firekit backed away some, wishing for the first time ever to not be able to be seen. “W-What are you rambling on about?” She followed his gaze, seeing Tigerclaw and Thistleclaw sharing a scrawny squirrel. The two had never spoken to her but they seemed like okay warriors. 

Goosefeather growled low in his throat, curling his stinking tail around her. To her relief, the gross fur didn’t actually make contact. 

”I saw you kits futures the moment I saw you. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, I’m not. Well, maybe a little.” He chuckled mirthlessly, “I just know too much.” 

Firekits eyes widened in wonder, “You saw our futures?!” She whispered, amazed. As quick as it’d come, it was replaced by confusion, “Then why didn’t you stop Bluefur?! I could’ve not di-! got too cold!” She demanded, glaring up at him. 

Goosefeather shook his head sadly, “Bluefurs future was wreathed with tragedy from its start. A fire meant to blaze at the head of her clan but she must do it _alone._ Starclan took her mother, her sister, and now her kits because she was not meant for a life of family. She must live for her clan alone, as Starclan demands.“ 

He pushed on before she could ask more, “But you four, you had your own destinies.” He whispered. 

His voice picked up as he continued, almost like he was working himself into a fit of some sort. “Stonefur, a loyal, true, cat til the end. Mistyfoot, a kind, fair deputy. Mosskit, the accepting sacrifice. And you!” He jabbed a paw at her, beginning to stalk toward her. 

Firekit backed away, passing through his tail to try and escape back to the nursery. His words froze her in her tracks. “Firestar, a leader who sought justice and truth!” He bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. 

The call drew hateful glares from his clanmates as they checked to make sure Bluefur had not heard the name. She seemed particularly sore about losing _that_ kit over the others and one mention of fire, flames, or anything related would send her into a depressed come-apart.

Firekit shuddered as the tom muttered, pacing back and forth. “They’ve destroyed us. He’ll kill them all.” He hissed, glaring hatred at Tigerclaw from across the clearing. The tabby snorted at his glare, standing to trot out of the camp with Whitestorm at his side. 

”Goosefeather, c-calm down.” Firekit tried to plead, “Just try to explain and I’ll help you!” 

”Help me? _Help me_? You were supposed to help everyone! Now you can’t help anyone.” Foam spilled from his mouth as he snarled to the sky. 

Looking around, Firekit could see that the cats in the clearing were growing angry. They hissed at him to shut up and go to sleep as Bluefur pushed into camp but the tom paid them no mind. 

He jabbed a claw at her hatefully, “You were a savior, Firekit. Now you’re nothing more than another forgotten kit that will fade away within two generations. Thunderclan is doomed by your death.” He growled solemnly, his blue eyes twinkling with secrets only he knew.

Without another word, he whipped around and stalked into the elders den. Featherwhisker tailed him, snarling insults all the while. 

Firekit wasn’t focused on that though. Bluefurs piercing wails were too much of a distraction. Once again, her mama was collapsed on the camp ground, her chest heaving with sobs. 

A group of queens had gathered around her, whispering soft coos in her ears. “Firekits safe in Starclan, Bluefur. They all are.” Speckletail murmured, pressing into the shuddering mollys side. 

_”No, we’re not, she sent us away!”_ Firekit wanted to yowl. She could’ve but it would’ve made no difference. 

Frostfur took up Bluefurs other side, “They’ll be remembered, we could never forget them.” She comforted. 

“Hopefully..” Firekit sighed, turning away from the sad scene. Perfect. She was too cold, her mother was grieving, her littermates were gone, and her only company was a crazed elder. 

She longed to comfort Bluefur, to run up to her and bat her ears while cheerfully asking what could be wrong. She couldn’t though. 

It was like Goosefeather said. She couldn’t help anyone now. She was a helpless kit, made to wander her old home until she was forgotten, unseen, unheard, and missed by only a few. 

And it hadn’t even been her fate! She was meant to be a leader, Mosskit was the one who was supposed to be here. Instead, Firekit had been cheated out of her life and Mosskit was off who-knows-where, eating prey, playing, talking to any cat she wanted to, and doing anything she liked. 

Doing all the things Firekit never got too. 

The grass under her paws blurred, making it hard to see. Dimly, she could see her claws unsheathe as she lost control of her emotions. 

A little cry bubbled from her throat. “Bluefur, I don’t want to be cold anymore!” She cried, running up to her mothers paws. 

The former queen had gathered her composure back though her eyes remained watery. She didn’t react to Firekits words like always. 

”I want to eat prey, I want an apprentice ceremony, I want to have teeth, and play, and talk!” She screamed, throwing herself to the ground. 

Around her thrashing form, a strange buzzing began, like the moment before lightening struck. “It’s not fair!” She howled. The cats around her grew still and quiet, looking around for a predator they couldn’t see as anticipation bloomed. 

_“I WANT TO GROW UP!”_

Behind her, the fresh-kill pile tumbled apart from her tantrums energy. Firekit didn’t care, “Please, let me go back!” She wailed, hitting at her oblivious mothers legs “I don’t like it like this, I want to go back to normal!” 

No one came to comfort her, a full switch from back when she’d been warm. Bluefur always came at her every cry then but now she just stepped over Firekits tiny, sobbing, form and helped to pick up a few pieces of fresh-kill. 

Firekit stayed in the same position, facing the highrock. She pressed herself flat to the ground as Sunstar called out a summons. The clan swept past her, their paws passing through her ghostly form seamlessly. 

Letting out another cry at the sight of Fuzzypelts foot cutting through her tail, she dug her nose into her front paws and bit down on them harshly, muffling her sobs.

A tail laid next to her, curling around her in a way that she knew it was a poor attempt at comfort. She raised her head, sniffling pitifully, and looked up at Goosefeather. 

The tom was shifting and refusing her eye, obviously very uncomfortable with the unusual task of comfort. He leaned down to her level slowly. 

”I’m sorry.” He murmured, “I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you but you must calm down.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. 

Firekit was going too anyway, she opened her mouth, gasping in a breath to tear into him but he cut her off before she could try. 

”You’re scaring them. I know it’s hard and you’re sad, I can’t even begin to imagine the loneliness.” His gaze drifted away, “But you can’t lose control of yourself, you’ll knock things over and that could hurt someone.” 

”Who cares if I scare them?” She hiccuped, “I’m scared and they didn’t help me!” 

Goosefeathers eyes softened, “You cannot hold that against them. They can’t see nor hear you little one, they’d help you if they knew.” 

Her sadness sharpened to hate, “You knew and you y-yelled at me!” She spat, huffing down a breath and swallowing another batch of cries. Her first talk in a moon and it had been someone mad at her! 

He looked away. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking of how you felt, I was stuck on what this meant for the clan. I’m sorry.” His apology, however lackluster, felt sincere enough. 

”What _does_ it mean for the clan?” Firekit murmured curiously, leaning as far against his warm body as she could without fazing into it. The heat barely dented how cold her own frosty fur felt but it was nice. 

Goosefeather was watching the activity before them, his eyes shut against the sunlight. “I don’t know.” He shook his shaggy head, “For the first time, I don’t know.” He got up from their position and staggered toward the elders den, his face lost and fearful. 

Firekit mourned the loss of his warmth before turning back to the meeting. She took in the scene through bleary, tear-stained, eyes. 

Sunstar stood at the foot of Highrock with Tawnyspots on one side, Bluefur on the other. The ThunderClan deputy’s shoulders were hunched, his haunches drawn in as though in pain. His ribs pushed against his ragged pelt. 

Sunstar dipped his head low. “Tawnyspots, ThunderClan thanks you for your loyalty and your courage. You have served your Clan well, and we hope that your days in the elders’ den are peaceful. Your stories and wisdom will still have a place in the Clan, and we will continue to learn from you.” 

Tawnyspots flicked his tail and Firekit saw pain flash in his eyes as his Clanmates yowled his name. “Tawnyspots! Tawnyspots!” Rosetail’s voice rose above the others as she cheered her old mentor. 

Thistleclaw lifted his muzzle and growled Tawnyspots’s name. Firekit flinched lightly at the deep rumble of it and began to wonder just how much truth there was to Goosefeathers breakdown. 

“Bluefur.” Sunstar touched his tail to her mamas shoulders. “You will be ThunderClan deputy from this day forward. May StarClan grant you the courage to help your Clan face whatever lies in its path. And when the time comes for you to take my place, I pray you will shine at the head of our Clan.” 

“Bluefur! Bluefur!” 

Delighted surprise surged through Firekits pelt and she jumped up to let out a loud cheer. 

“Bluefur!” Whitestorm called alongside her, pride singing in his yowl but Thistleclaw drowned them both out with a yowl that reached for StarClan.

Firekit covered her ringing ears, watching a glare form on the toms face. Her still blood froze completely at the depth of rage in his eyes. There was something dark, something sinister about the sneer that curled his muzzle. It promised bad things. 

Bad things that she didn’t want anywhere near her mama. She didn’t have much of a choice though. She was too cold. There would be no warning her of the dark look or badger rides or stories before sleep. 

Those things were all gone. Firekit could do little to nothing now. She could only sit on the sidelines and watch the life she never got to have play out before her. Never to be a warrior, never to gain stories of her merits, never to feel the greenleaf sun on her back, never to be warm. 

Never to be anything more than a sad ghost haunting her former clanmates until they moved on to an afterlife she rejected. 

Firekit would see them meet Graywing, though it seemed they could not see her, before they would both vanish away to the stars and leave her to take up her post beside the nursery and begin watching the clan once more. 

For countless, meaningless, seasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me using ‘too cold’ or ‘cold’ instead of dead*: T-T 
> 
> Why did I decide to make her a sad lil ghost?? It Seemed like such a good idea at the time.


	3. Chapter 3

“Over here!” Graykit squealed, jumping up to catch the mossball Sandkit had thrown. He managed to snag it on his claws and collapsed onto his back, gnawing on it as he paddled his back paws into it. 

Sandkit and Cherrykit charged his flank, “Give it back, you Badger!” Cherrykit growled, reaching around him to try and grab the bundle, “That’s ours, find your own!” 

”I found this one so it’s mine now!” Graykit shot back, sitting up and setting one paw his prize. The two she-kits shared a glance before attacking. They tackled him to the ground, rolling away in a screeching bundle of fur and teeth. 

Firekit smiled from the shadows of the nursery, watching them tumble head over tail. She liked this new batch of kits well, they were loud and fun. 

_’I wish I could play.’_ her thoughts whispered. Firekit shoved them away, rolling onto her side to better keep an eye on them. There was no sense in wishing for anything. 

Looking toward the sky, she raised a paw and looked at it sadly. The clear newleaf sky showed through it and she could see the leaves that swayed gently in the breeze on the trees surrounding the ravine. 

Goosefeather had been right. The long dead tom had predicted that as time moved on, cats would forget about her litter. True to his word, the more cats she watched leave, the more clear she became. She was fading away, forgotten by time and cats alike. 

”There she is!” Her head snapped up and away from the sad thoughts in her mind. Two kits were charging toward her, their thin limbs trembling with effort. Snorting in irritation, she vanished into the camp wall, burrowing her way deep into the prickly thorns. 

Outside her hide out, she could see two tiny, sickly, kits sniffing around where she had just been laying. “Go away!” She told them angrily, digging deeper into the wall. 

Ravenkit and Chestnutkit flinched at her yell, shuddering against each other. “Come out and play! We won’t let Dustkit be mean to you this time.” Chestnutkit promised. 

Firekit didn’t respond. She’d found out long ago that some young kits could see her for a short time, eventually though, they’d stop. Then they forgot her. 

Always. 

The two kits in front of her were long past the age were they usually stopped seeing her but looking at them, she could see them trembling on stick-thin limbs with gaunt faces. Their breath was wheezing and they coughed occasionally. 

They were closer to her world than most kits were, perhaps thats why they continued to see her. And bug her. 

Seasons ago, she would’ve been delighted to play, to have someone to talk to but now? She’d been left behind by far too many kits. Watching them get their names and grow was nice but it hurt all too much to see her friends move on without her time and time again. 

”Scarykit?” Ravenkit mewed, trying to catch her attention. He was nosing at the wall, narrowing his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of her pale ginger fur. 

Ah, Scarykit. Such a fun little nickname that had been stuck to her. _’Thanks Darkstripe.’_ she hissed mentally. That tom had been a pain to deal with, a thorn in her side from the moment he was kitted. Always wailing and whining. 

Dumb as a mouse walking toward a cats mouth too, he would constantly trying to blame things on her even after realizing none of the grown cats could see her. 

When she’d finally snapped at him to stop annoying her, she wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d gone a bit too far and scared him out of his fur. 

He’d ran away, screeching to his mother about a ‘Scary kit’ and so that became her new name. He’d been the last kit she tried to talk to, for obvious reasons.

”Go away.” She repeated, “I don’t want to play.” 

”But Scarykit, we need another player!” Chestnutkit whined, pawing at the thorns that encircled Firekit. “Please?” 

”Chestnutkit, Ravenkit!” Frostfur, a young queen, appeared behind them and saved Firekit from having to respond. “Get back from that wall before you scratch yourselves!” 

Ravenkt pouted up at the queen, “How come Scarykit gets to stay in there? Make her come out and play!” He stomped his paw some, like a kit three moons younger than he actually was. 

Frostfur rolled her eyes, “There’s no kit named Scarykit. It was an old tale Darkstripe made up when a bird spooked him. There’s no one in the camp wall.” 

Chestnutkit huffed angrily, “Everyone says that but we’re looking at her!” She squealed, jabbing a paw at Firekit, “She looks like a really young kit-!” 

”A moon. She looks about a moon old.” Ravenkit supplied. 

Pausing, Chestnutkit looked her thoughtfully over while Firekit hissed at her. “Yeah, you’re right, she doesn’t have teeth.” Frostfur snorted at them both. 

Reaching out a paw, she drew them closer to her, “Come now, you’re both almost six moons old. That’s much too old for all this ‘Scarykit’ nonsense.” She scolded, “I’ve been alive for quite a while and have never met this so-called Scarykit.” 

Ravenkit and Chestnutkit shared a glance then looked up at her, “What about a dark ginger she-kit?” Ravenkit asked cautiously, “With blue eyes? They look like they’re turning green though. Her fur really sticks out, it looks like fire in the sun. 

”Which is really weird.” He continued oblivious to how Frostfur had stiffened in front of him, “Cause she’s so cold. Her fur is covered in frost, even her whiskers have snow in them.” 

Frostfur had froze, the smile on her face falling while the fur along her back rose in horror. She suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Once I knew a kit like that, a long time ago, but she’s not here anymore.” She swept her tail around the kits, “Um. Do you two know Scarykits real name?” 

Fear was poking through her tone. Firekit pressed her ears flat and backed away. She didn’t want to scare her old clanmates but the idea of her still being here always made the older cats uneasy. 

Both of the kits turned to look at her, their eyes glittering faintly as they tried to recall if they’d ever heard her name before. 

Finally, Ravenkits narrowed eyes lit up, “Yeah! Runningwind saw her once, he said he used to know her when he was really little but he wouldn’t say anything else.” 

”Shut up! You’re scaring her!” Firekit snarled, stalking to the edge of the wall, “Don’t tell her, it’ll just make her mad!” 

Chestnutkits eyes got a glint, “Come out and play and we won’t tell her.” She bargained, holding her paw out temptingly. 

”You’ll tell me, alright!” Frostfur snapped, “Right this instant.” The queen was growing fearful, looking around for the long dead kit they had described in such detail. 

The two kits shrunk back away from her, “Runningwind asked us to describe her and we did. He said he’d seen a flash of her once, when he was three moons old but that he’d played with her too. He said it was,” his voice hitched as he spoke the name, “Flamekit?” 

Relief washed through Firekit and she’d never more grateful for Runningwinds terrible memory. She didn’t want the older cats to know she was here. She didn’t want to scare them. Pesky kits, though? Well, they were just too fun to scare. 

It seemed, though, that she had failed in keeping Frostfur from fright. “Enough!” The white molly ordered, her voice clipped. Her spiked tail swept around behind her with her agitation. 

“There was no Thunderclan kit named Flamekit. There was only one ginger she-kit but,” Frostfurs voice softened as she realized the kits looked beyond confused, “She’s not here, she’s been in Starclan for a very long time.” 

”That’s right.” Firekit hissed, “So you better go or I might take you back to Starclan with me!” She leapt up, taking to the air and fazing through the thorns with a crazed smile. She’d spent moons perfecting it but now she knew she looked much like her old company, Goosefeather. 

Stars, she missed him. 

The kits looked up at her then, letting out fearful wails at the ominous floating kit, they turned tail and ran. “Speckletail!” They squealed for their foster mother, vanishing into the nursery.

”Ravenkit, Chestnutkit!” Frostfur yelled after them, “What’s gotten into you two?!” She picked herself up, wobbling slight under the weight of her belly as she trotted toward the fresh-kill pile with a shake of her head. 

Firekit snorted, landing on the ground lightly and following her. Hopefully this litter wouldn’t be as nosey.

Bluestar and Redtail were next to the fresh-kill pile, their heads bowed in discussion. They looked up as Frostfur pulled near and mewed a cheerful greeting. 

Firekit looked away from the scene as Bluestars eyes scanned right over her. It had taken her many moons to understand what had been done but Goosefeather had explained it as best he could for how fast his mind went. 

It was a hard poppy seed to swallow but she’d come to accept what her mother had done. She’d seen Thistleclaw and been relieved when his arrogance finally cost him his life. She knew how violent the ambition that lurked underneath his pelt was. He would’ve marked the borders with blood, Thunderclan and enemies alike. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t angry about it. Not at Bluestar. Never at her. She was mad at Graywing, and Thistleclaw, and Starclan, and Mosspaw, and that stupid, stupid _snow_. 

But not her mama. Bluestar hadn’t meant for her to get that cold. She had loved Firekit. 

So Firekit silently accepted that love while still accepting that she hadn’t loved Firekit enough to keep her. Her leadership mattered more. 

Cats could say what they wanted but Firekit knew the truth. For however good Bluestars intentions had been, the ambition that fueled them had been just as deeply rooted and dangerous as Thistleclaws. 

She had _wanted_ leadership. Her paws were restless in the nursery, not made for herding kits. Her voice was powerful and commanding unlike the gentle coo she’d used to lull Firekit and her siblings to sleep. 

Bluestar was a leader, through and through, and Firekit? Well, she’d been in the way of that. At least Bluestar tried. She’d give the old molly that. 

She couldn’t pretend that Bluestar didn’t mourn her kits like the next mother and that she had tried to get them all to Riverclan safely. She’d done the best she could. However, the seed of Firekits dull anger lied with the glaring difference between Bluestar and the next queen. 

She’d chosen this. 

She knew the risks of taking them out into the blizzard and accepted them. She was going to save her clan, no matter what. Firekit just wished it hadn’t been her that paid the price for it. 

Still, countless seasons on her own after Goosefeathers death had helped her forgive her mother. After all, she had nothing better to do than grapple with her own thoughts. Bluestar was only doing what she thought was right. 

That’s what Firekit told herself as she glided toward the molly and brushed up against her shoulder. She tried to pretend that Bluestar purred in greeting instead of shuddering at the sudden chill.

”What was all that commotion about?” Redtail asked, biting into his squirrel. 

Frostfur glanced at Bluestar uncomfortably “Oh, y’know, just kits being kits.” She tried to play it off as Bluestar looked at her curiously. 

”I heard them talking about some kit. Did Sandkit get hurt?” His tone edged on worry as he munched away, obvious to Frostfurs heated glare. 

”No, they were just working themselves up with that old tale of...Scarykit...like every kit since Darkstripe has.” She hooked a bird on her claws, making a quick get-away and throwing a lame excuse over her shoulder, “I should take this to Speckletail!” 

Firekit sat beneath her mamas belly, feeling it tighten up at the mention of her nickname. Redtail glanced up at her subtly, “I’ve heard that old tale from Darkstripe. Of a ginger she-kit with snow all over-!” 

”It was a bird.” Bluestar snapped, her claws unsheathing, “He was scared by a bird and spun that tale to make himself seem brave to the other kits.” 

Leaning her head against Bluestars foreleg, Firekit watched Redtails face soften. He looked up at his leader earnestly, “Bluestar, would it be so bad if maybe, one of them _did_ stay?” 

The gray molly didn’t answer, “I’ll be hunting, send out the dusk patrols.” She brushed through Firekits pelt and side stepped her deputy, heading from camp. 

Firekit hesitated then followed, jumping from the camp floor to soar to the top of the ravine. She hardly ever left camp since Goosefeathers death, she’d never even been to the Snakerocks. 

There was no particular reason on why she didn’t leave, she just never had. There was no excitement in seeing something you could never feel or talk about.

She trailed next to Bluestars head, letting the bushes and branches slip through her form without a thought. 

The old leaders head was bowed and her eyes were shadowed with a deep, thoughtful, sadness as she leaned down to pluck a blue flower from the earth. Neither of them spoke but then again, what else could Firekit expect? Bluestar thought she was alone. 

Firekit drifted in her own thoughts, remembering the first time she had ever seen Greenleaf. Goosefeather had answered all her excited questions, a fond grin tugging at his muzzle as she floated up to peek at a nest of baby birds. 

The smile fell from her muzzle. He’d died on the first snow that season and left her all alone. He’d looked around for her when Graywing came but his gaze, though sad, was not surprised. He did always know far more than he let on. She had a sneaking suspicion that he knew once he died, they would never meet again. 

The smell of Riverclan assaulted her nose, learned well from the fur of returning patrols that had gotten into border fights. Looking up, Firekit realized she’d zoned out and let Bluestar get ahead of her. 

Silent as a breeze, Firekit floated to land beside her. The leader was hunched, her paws trembling as she lowered the flower to rest on a tiny patch of ground. 

The grass had long since grown back but it still showed some difference from a normal piece of land. A tiny stone, rolled from the sunningrocks to here by Bluestars grief-stricken paws, rested on it. The ground had sunken in a bit over time as her body returned to the earth.

Bluestar laid down next to the small patch, resting her nose against the cold stone. “Hey Firekit.” She mewed, closing her eyes. 

”Hey mama.” 

Her words went unnoticed, “Are you still here? Scaring kits?” Bluestar murmured, “You oughta know better than that. I taught you better.” 

”You taught me for one moon.” 

”Sometimes, I do hope you’re still here, that one of you still loves me.” The leader sighed, looking impossibly tired, “That one of you still remembers me.” 

”Everyone forgot me.” 

Bluestar slowly stood, running a paw over the stone. “Then I remember that Starclan is so much better for you. There’s no cold or hunger there and Snowfur can care for you until I get there.” 

”I’ll still be here when you go there.” 

Bluestar didn’t respond, “I’ll come back to visit soon, my little flame, I promise.” She rubbed her cheek against the stone once more, then vanished into the woods.

Firekit didn’t follow. She trailed to the edge of the river, hesitating, then she glided over it towards the Riverclan camp. 

It had been many moons since she’d last come here. She came once, when she was supposed to be six moons old. 

She couldn’t find the strength to return after seeing her brother and sisters receive their apprentice names. It had hurt far too much to see them moving on without her. 

Especially Mosspaw. 

She knew they had their warrior names by now, but she’d gone out of her way to avoid hearing them. It would just make her wonder what hers would have been. 

If she could pick, she would’ve chosen ‘Firepelt’ so she’d never be cold again. 

Even though it had been seasons since her last visit, it didn’t take her long to find the quiet Riverclan camp. It was nestled among reeds with a thick wall of thorny gorse protecting it. 

Fazing through the wall, Firekit looked around, trying to spot her siblings. Oakheart sat across the camp, a few gray hairs sticking out among the reddish ginger fur of his muzzle. Only a few shades darker than Firekits own pelt. 

She intentionally passed through his front legs, grinning at his shudder. No matter what Goosefeather had said, this cat wasn’t her father. Thrushpelt had always been and always would be.

”Mistyfoot!” He called towards the entrance as it rustled with the sound of approaching cats, “How’d your trip with Rushpaw go?” 

Firekit whipped around, her eyes locking on the camp entrance. She no longer breathed but if she did, her breath would have left her. 

All three of her siblings were pushing into camp, a tiny brown tabby trailing after them. The three had their heads together, laughing at something she didn’t hear. 

Firekit swallowed harshly. 

Stonepaw had gotten huge, with bulky muscles and shredded ears. His step was confident and at home as he went to drop off some fish on the freshkill pile. 

Mistyfoot was as beautiful as Bluestar, sharing the same pelt and build as the Thunderclan leader. Her light laugh bubbled from her throat, showing how deep her voice had gotten since Firekit had last seen her. 

Letting her gaze drift to the last cat, Firekit felt her belly turn. Mosspaw was unlike both her siblings, she was short with stumpy legs and a large belly. Her gray and white fur was long and bushy, far different from Stonepaw and Mistyfoots sleek short fur. 

She only came up to her siblings shoulders but her step was cheerful and carefree as she carried a bundle of herbs toward the medicine den. Mudfur, the Riverclan medicine cat, greeted her warmly. 

”Mosspool!” He purred, rubbing his cheek against hers, “How was your trip? That bunch didn’t give you too much trouble I hope.” 

Mosspool. Her name was Mosspool. Firekit looked away. 

”No, other than Stonefur badgering me to hurry up.” She jabbed her brother good-naturedly. 

”I wouldn’t have to badger you if you didn’t try to pick every herb you saw.” Stonefur rolled his eyes, bumping heads with Oakheart as the tom came up behind them with a small grin. 

Looking at them, Firekit felt a pang in her heart. She reached out a paw, for what she didn’t know. Perhaps she wanted to be with them, with her siblings in life. How different would things have been if she hadn’t of got cold? 

She wouldn’t even remember Thrushpelt or Bluestar. She would have grown up a Riverclan cat, with a large family at her side. She would have a warrior name. Perhaps she’d have a mate by now. 

Maybe even kits of her own. 

Their joyful smiles burned her because she so desperately wanted to smile as well but there was little for her to be happy about. 

She knew she was being selfish. That she should be happy her siblings were alive and well but she couldn’t help herself. 

”It was supposed to be you.” She growled, glaring at Mosspool. “This should’ve been _my_ life.” 

Of course, she wouldn’t wish her existence on any cat. It was a lonely, hollow, fate with nothing and no one but if it had come down to it, if she could go back? 

She wouldn’t have pressed against Mosskit. 

”I hope you enjoy your stolen time.” Firekit spat the words hatefully, feeling the energy that accompanied her tantrums start to buzz around her. 

Mosspools laugh cut off as a strange sight caught her eye. For a moment, just one heartbeat, she thought she saw a kit sitting in front of her. 

It was a scrawny, pathetic thing. Fluffy ginger fur covered its thin body, coated in a fine lay of frost. Snow lined its whiskers and back, giving off a chill so cold that Mosspool felt her paws ache. 

It’s gray filmed, glazed, blueish eyes glared up at her with such hatred, such malice that it made her pause. 

Then she blinked and it was gone. 

Firekit smiled at her, recognizing the look of someone who had just seen her. The wide, fearful look as they grappled with the thought of seeing something no one else had. 

Mosspool swallowed hard, the kit had looked...familiar. She dug through her memories, trying to think of all the kits born in recent leafbares. Maybe it was just a trick of her eyes, reminding her of Rumblekit. 

He’d been the first kit she’d lost, the greencough had overwhelmed his tiny body. 

”Mosspool, are you alright?” Oakheart asked, his ear flicking in worry. She nodded back at him, distracted as she pawed through her mind. 

Briefly, her paw grazed upon a memory she had not touched in a very, very long time. She’d asked about it once and Graypool had told her it was of her first moon of life, when the great blizzard had struck. 

_“Don orry Mosskit, we hom soon.”_

The chopped, slurred sentence was not any voice she knew. Looking around and seeing no more flashes of ghostly ginger fur, she decided to just talk with Mudfur about it later. 

After all, it could be an omen. Perhaps there had been a kit in the nursery with her and her littermates who didn’t see newleaf. Maybe they’d come to warn her of the coming leafbare. 

”C’mon.” She bumped Stonefurs shoulder, shaking the ominous feeling she had off, “You can help me sort this.” 

With a sigh, Firekit turned and began to leave, heading back toward Thunderclan. There was nothing for her here. At least in Thunderclan, she could pretend she had a purpose. Besides, she needed to get back to Bluestar. 

The molly might have another nightmare tonight and Firekit would need to be there for her. They had only each other now. Coming to Riverclan had been a mistake, one she wouldn’t make again. 

Looking over her shoulder to glimpse her family one last time, Firekit watched as the group vanished into the dark medicine den, torn between resentment and longing. Stars, how she wished to be among them, laughing and playing and just being _alive_. 

But there was no sense in wishing for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its*claps* sad times.
> 
> This whole story will be one big sad time actually. There are so few cats who remember Firekit, truly remember her as her instead of a flash of ginger fur and a long forgotten cheerful laugh.
> 
> Y’all know that can’t end well.


	4. Chapter 4

Firekit spent some time out in the forest before returning back to her home, enjoying the nice Greenleaf day as it slowly faded to night. She had no pressing duties, of course, and it had been almost four seasons since she had ventured out of camp for any reason. 

The last time she had gone was to look at the stars on a lovely gathering night. She had thought of attending the gathering but decided against it. What use did they have for her? She wasn’t involved in any clan decisions. 

Gliding over past the stepping stones, Firekit let her mind drift as it always did. _’I would’ve made a fine medicine cat.’_ she snorted, remembering the tales Poppydawn used to spin about the first medicine cat, Mothflight. 

Mosspools face flashed in her mind and she shoved any thought of medicine cats aside. She knew in her heart that she was destined to be a warrior. Or had been, anyway. 

Sighing heavily, Firekit drifted through the forest, stopping only when she reached the Owl Tree. Not far from it, dozens of small stones laid spread apart but in an obvious cluster. 

She hovered over them, running her paws over four stones that were lined up neatly and nestled into little groves. “Empty graves.” She hissed, jerking her paw back as if the touch pained her. 

She searched a few more spots, growling at Thistleclaws grave as she passed it. That good-for-nothing tom didn’t deserve a resting place. They should’ve left him for the crows that had pecked at his body until the dawn patrol scared them away. 

Thistleclaw wasn’t who she was here for though. Settling on top of the roots of a large oak, Firekit sighed and let one of her paws drift to lightly brush against a small, cracked, stone. 

”Hey Goosefeather.” She murmured, painfully aware of how much she sounded like her mother. The loneliness was echoed in her voice perfectly and she knew if she could see herself, she’d see that same forlorn expression on her face. 

”I hope you’ve found peace in Starclan.” She truly did. He’d suffered much in his life and carried the guilt of it for all of his days. 

He’d told her about a few, in his final moons. Of a kit he chased across the river, knowing he needed to break his jaw to fulfill his destiny, of a she-cat named Snowfur who’s death he failed to predict, of his own sister who marched to her death on his orders. 

Her. 

He regretted a great deal of his life, even if he knew he was doing things for the best. Firekit didn’t understand much of his rambles as his mind deteriorated but she’d gotten the sense that things could’ve been much worse. 

Well, for her clanmates anyway. He’d cackled a few times that Firekit had to be the only cat he knew more cursed than himself. One born for such greatness only to have their life cut short before they could even walk properly? Oh, the cruelty of it! 

Blinking, she realized she’d drifted too far into herself and shook her head. “I just hope you guys don’t need sleep either. Stars, you snored like a badger with one lung!” She teased, wishing he was there to banter back at her. 

Shaking her pelt, she leaned down and brushed her nose against his stone. “I don’t think I’ll be out and about any time soon but if I am, I’ll come see you.” She knew there wasn’t any point to visiting him as Starclan couldn’t see her but it made her feel better anyway. 

It made her feel heard. 

Dusk was finally settling over the forest when she drug herself from the roots of the oak tree. Sometimes, Firekit just so felt heavy and tired but she knew she couldn’t sleep. 

Besides, Firekit felt a lot of things that she didn’t know. She didn’t know much about feelings, having felt so few in her short life. 

She didn’t know what the tight feeling she got in her belly at a warriors ceremony was, or the burning in her chest when Bluestar talked about her leadership, and she certainly didn’t know what the feeling she got every leafbare was. 

Firekit flinched at her own thoughts. That one was the worst. The others were brief and only soured her mood but when leafbare came...she couldn’t stand it. The feeling was dark and mean, twirling in her insides like an adder as it tried to crawl up her throat in bitter bile. 

Some nights, when the snow fell thick outside Bluestars den, she couldn’t stop it. She’d listen to the roaring wind of the snowstorm, feeling it get worse and worse until the storm passed. There were worst nights, ones with a bright, full moon and a raging blizzard tearing through the forest. 

On those nights, Firekit would scream with the wind. 

Luckily, she didn’t need to worry about that for a good two more seasons. Looking down, she decided to go the normal route down to camp as she could see the clearing was full of warriors preparing for sleep. 

Leaping down from stone to earth, Firekit pushed into the camp and immediately felt her mood turn foul. Now she wished she’d stayed with Goosefeather. 

She had returned to a sight she hated. 

Covered in the shine of a starry night, Graywing stood at the entrance to the nursery, his fluffy tail swaying as he cooed to a trembling shape nestled against the arching branches. 

Firekits non-beating heart clenched as a wail split the dusk air. Speckletail came forth, stumbling through both the ghostly forms of Graywing and his company. Chestnutkits limp body was clasped tightly between her jaws. 

Firekit sighed, floating to stand next to Graywing. The tom didn’t glance at her but that was okay. Firekit didn’t like him much. 

She could appreciate what he did though. 

”Come now, Chestnutkit. It’s time to go.” He murmured, sweeping the scared kit up in his tail. She looked well now, with the white line connecting them. Her fur had gotten thick and shiny. 

Looking her over, Firekit could see the thin, emancipated kit had fattened and had a nice, plump, belly. 

It didn’t take away from her terrified expression though. “W-what happened to me?!” She stuttered, “I just took a nap!” 

She was looking over his tail as Speckletail paced around her corpse, begging a somber Spottedleaf to do something. 

Graywings gentle voice was grim, “I’m sorry Chestnutkit, you were just too weak. Your body could no longer contain your soul.” He leaned down, nuzzling her comfortingly, “But it’s okay. Robinwing is waiting on you.” 

The kits eyes lit up at the thought of seeing her mother once more. She hesitated, looking back toward her shivering brother, he had been her best friend in life. 

But she didn’t have a life anymore. Besides, Robinwing was waiting for her! Like all kits but Firekit before her, she let Graywing lift her up by her scruff. 

In an instant, both were gone in a dazzling flash of starlight. 

Firekit looked sadly towards the vigil, seeing Dustkit and Cherrykit staring, shell-shocked, at their dead little sister. The two let out pitiful whimpers, nudging her limp form in a vain attempt to rouse her. Firekit wished she could tell them that Chestnutkit was okay. 

There was one kit she could let know, a fact she was reminded of as a whimper sounded behind her. 

She turned to find Ravenkit looking up her with an accusatory glare. “W-why’d you take her?” He hiccuped demandingly, “We left you alone like you said too!” 

Firekit felt her eyes soften. Coming to sit next to the tom, she wrapped her tail around him, pretending he didn’t flinch at her icy touch. 

”I didn’t take her. She was sick and frail, it was just her time.” She murmured, “There wasn’t anything I could do to save or kill her.” 

Ravenkit growled, “But you said-!” 

”I just wanted to be left alone. I’d never hurt a clanmate, especially a kit!” She insisted, her fur twitching guiltily. 

Perhaps she should’ve been nicer to the weak kit but then again, she’d had no idea it was her last day alive and she couldn’t go around being nice to every pesky kit because they _might_ die that day. 

”Clanmate?” Ravenkits ear twitched, “You’re not a Thunderclan cat!” He pointed out, shaking off her tail stubbornly, “You’re j-just a fox-hearted sister-stealer!” 

Firekit didn’t flinch. Generations of kits had called her insults far, far worse than that. _Monster, evil, killer, snatcher, nightmare.._

The list went on and on. “I didn’t kill her. Greencough did, she was too weak to completely overcome it. As for my status.” She thrust her head at his, “I am a Thunderclan cat, I’ve been a Thunderclan cat for a very long time. I’ve looked after countless litters of kits from Runningwind to that ghastly Darkstripe.” 

She took a breath she didn’t need, trying to calm herself down when she realized she was scaring him. “I’m trying to help my clan, I was meant to save it but...” she trailed off, a lump in her throat. 

She could feel the snow on her back grow colder, sending out an icy wind. A few cats shuddered. Their eyes, already dull with grief, briefly lit up in anger before dying out to sadness once more. 

Ravenkits eyes widened in understanding as he looked the kit over and finally connected all the pieces. No one but kits and sick cats had ever admitted to seeing her, she could do things no other cat could like float and go through things, and finally her appearance. 

He’d always wondered how she carried such a chill with her. The snow on her pelt never melted, never fell, and never eased up in its coldness. He’d also waited for her to grow, assuming she’d been one of the other queens kits when he was younger but now he knew what was really going on. 

“You died before you could.” He whispered, his voice flipping from angry to pitying. 

“I got too cold.” Firekit hissed, blinking her eyes rapidly, “I’m still trying to help save my clan, I just don’t know what from. Goosefeather never said.” 

She’d thought it had been Thistleclaw but Bluestar had stopped him. 

Ravenkit tipped his head in thought before his gaze drifted back to his sisters body sadly, “Can you tell her I said I love her?” He asked, his voice cracking. 

Firekit didn’t mind the subject change, “No,” she murmured, ignoring his gaze as it shot to her in betrayal, “Her and I walk different skies. She belongs to Starclan and I rejected them.”

His jaws gaped and he sprung up, backing away from her with a nervous jitter, “You rejected _Starclan_!?” He gasped. 

Firekit quickly rushed to reassure him, “I wasn’t done yet, I still have cats to look-!” He cut her off mid-sentence. 

”I don’t believe you!” He trembled, “Y-you’re evil! Evil like Darkstripe said you were! Only evil cats don’t go to Starclan!” 

She’d been called evil before, specifically by Darkstripe but this time, it stung a bit more than usual. Maybe it was because she somewhat appreciated Ravenkits company. 

It had been a long time since someone had begged her to play, even if she no longer allowed herself to indulge as it made the grown cats concerned. 

Or maybe it was because there was a bit of truth to it. 

Either way, Firekit found herself unable to respond. She only stared at him, her belly churning with a small amount of hurt. Then she turned and vanished into the camp walls, soaring through them until she was nestled deep in the prickly branches on the other side of camp. 

She didn’t leave her safe spot until Chestnutkits body was carried from camp and the warriors began to settle in for the night. 

A small prickle of anger at the short vigil shot down her spine. Only apprentices and warriors received a full nights vigil. Kits were buried soon after their deaths, once the medicine cat spoke a prayer over their bodies. 

She let the anger run its course, not wanting it to influence Bluestars dreams. The gray molly had always said not to sleep angry, after all. 

Once she’d calmed down some she, making sure Ravenkit was not around, glided up to Bluestars den and curled up tightly on the edge of her mothers nest. 

The dim moonlight lit up the den, casting shadows in the corners. Firekit tried not to look at them. The shadows of night were far different from those of the day. 

There was something sinister about them that she couldn’t quite put her paw on. Whatever it was, it frightened her, so she avoided them. 

Sometimes though, she’d see the shadows slithering. They moved over each other, shifting and growing before shrinking back. If Firekit looked closely enough, she’d be able to make out a faintly feline shape, peering at her from the dark depths. 

With that in mind, she turned away from them, focusing on her mama. Bluestars fur was clumped with heat and she rolled restlessly in her doze. An occasional whimper left her mouth. 

Resting her head on her paws, Firekit looked her over. In the many seasons since she got too cold, Bluestar had changed. It wasn’t that noticeable to a normal cats eye but Firekit laid next to her every night with little to do but memorize her features. 

A few gray whiskers showed on her muzzle, reflecting Oakhearts. Her fur, once long and lush, was thin and dull with age. She was not a young cat anymore but she certainly wasn’t an elder, yet. 

Looking up, Firekit sighed, hoping the night would go smoothly and that the sun would rise soon so she could have something to watch. Namely, the clan. 

It seemed she would not get the former tonight. Unsurprising with the events of the day but disappointing nonetheless. Firekit watched Bluestar thrash a few times and wondered if she truly needed to interfere. 

Firekit did not sleep, she was unable to. However, many moons ago, she found that, like Starclan, she could walk in a cats dream. 

Mostly she walked only in Bluestars to destroy nightmares but sometimes, she would wander into a kits dream and bask in their innocent, joyful, fantasies that were the complete opposite of her mothers tortured mind.

She didn’t think any of the kits were going to have good dreams tonight. 

Neither would Bluestar, apparently. Long after the moon had risen to its highest point and cast a silver glow, the leader continued to thrash in her nest, her paws clenching the moss tightly when they weren’t paddling the air.

Firekit sighed and stood. She didn’t like to travel into her mother dreams. It always made both of them sad. Still, she wouldn’t let Bluestar suffer another sleepless night if she could help it. Besides, whatever nightmare she was having seemed particularly horrifying. 

Striding forward, she leaned down and gently rested her nose against Bluestars forehead. She could not press down or she would go through the she-cats head. 

Slowly, a dull ache started to pulse through her limbs and they shook violently with effort as Firekit forced herself into another world, apart from both Starclan and her own plain of existence. 

Her head throbbed, a tightening starting around it. It was a feeling she was used too but it still hurt horribly, like a vine being wound around her head again and again until it popped. 

Around her, the den began to mesh, turning and flipping as she pulled herself deeper and deeper into Bluestars dream. She did not see it as her eyes were clenched shut tightly in effort. Finally the coil winding around her head snapped and she opened her eyes. 

Immediately, she let out a wail and began trying to yank herself from the nightmare. She knew how fruitless the effort was, she could not leave until Bluestar woke up but that didn’t stop her from trying. 

Around her, snow fell in large flakes, piling around her rapidly. The white specks were glittering coldly, blinding her in the moonlight. Breathing rapidly and feeling the icy air sting her chest, Firekit began trying to glide, to get the snow _off_ of her. 

Her paws remained firmly planted in the icy whiteness around her. All she could do was hop frantically, trying to keep the drifts from burying her up to her ears. The thick snow came up to her chest, incasing her in her horrid memories. 

Firekit may have the body of a kit but her soul had survived over a long life-time. She wasn’t a kit in her mind, she grown past that. However, faced with this horrid dream, she could only bring herself to do one thing. 

”Mama!” She wailed, scrambling at the snow around her, “Mama, help me!” She could see Bluestar moving ahead of her in the blizzard. The snowflakes made it almost impossible to see but Firekit could never mistake the blueish gray fur. 

Bluestar was crouched with grief, watching Oakheart cross the frozen river with three kits, their faces blurred by time. However, at the calls, her head snapped around so quickly that Firekit was surprised it didn’t break her neck. 

Firekit normally never let herself be seen in dreams, thinking seeing her would dig up Bluestars hidden grief. This time though, she couldn’t help herself, she needed her mama to get her away from the beautiful death dragging her into its cold embrace. 

Bluestar didn’t spare a moment, her paws skidded on the frozen river in her haste to leap over the snow drifts. “Firekit!” She yowled, a seed of hope blooming in her tone. She began shoving her way through the mounting frost, “I thought-! You’re alive! Oh my precious kit, you’re alive!” 

Firekit tried to meet her but when she moved, Bluestar yelled loudly, “No, No don’t move! Stay there, moving will make you colder!” The panic in her voice twisted Firekits heart. She didn’t think she could get any colder. 

Finally, Bluestar tumbled over the last of the drifts and tried to curl around Firekit with an ecstatic cry, “Oh, Firekit, Firekit. I’m so sorry I left you, I thought you were _gone_.” She hiccuped “But you’re not! You’re not. Come now, I-I’ll take you back to Thunderclan where it’s warm. You’ll be okay, I promise, you’ll be okay.” 

Firekit longed to believe it but unlike Bluestar, she knew this was a dream and dreams always ended poorly for them both. 

Bluestars watery eyes were nearly pinched closed by her large, desperate, grin, “Thistleclaw can have Thunderclan, I don’t care.” She murmured, reaching out a paw to finally brush the snow from her tiny daughters pelt. It would never touch her again, not while Bluestar breathed. “All that matters is that you’re-!” 

Her paw passed straight through Firekit. 

It was strange to see. Firekit watched sadly as denial raced beneath the long-sought happiness on Bluestars face. Then the expression cracked, beginning to fall apart. 

”No.” She whispered, trying once more to brush the snow off, only to get the same result, “No, No, No, No!” She yowled, collapsing into the powdery snow. It twinkled around her cruelly, having no mercy for the mother who faced her kits death twice over. 

”No, you’re okay!” Bluestar wailed, trying desperately to wrap her paws around Firekits form. “You’re okay! Please, Please don’t be dead!” 

The molly was edging on hysterical, her blue eyes looking far too similar to Goosefeathers crazed ones when he’d worked himself into a fit. ”I can take you back,” she cried, “Just let me take you home, I promise, I won’t let you get cold again!” 

Firekit looked down at her, guilt clenching her heart as the molly thrashed, ripping her paws through the snow in her grief. She should’ve just left well enough alone, now she’d just made everything worse. 

There was no salvaging this mess of a dream, she wanted out of this nightmare and Bluestar needed out as well. She needed to wake her up. 

Finally, she leaned down and rested her nose against Bluestars sadly, stilling the she-cats frantic motions. Bluestars eyes widened in distress “Why are you still cold? Please, let me warm you!” She cried, trying to bring Firekit into her chest fur. 

Bluestars heart clenched, for one blissful moment, reality hadn’t exist. For a heartbeat, she had let herself believe history hadn’t happen, that she’d been wrong, that Firekit had just been deeply asleep. 

The blizzard howled around them, the roaring wind switching directions. In the brief pause as the snow changed course, Bluestar could truly see her daughter. The sight made her wail harder. 

She looked exactly as she had when she died but somehow, worse too. Bluestar could still see her ribs through her fluffy fur, pressing tight against the skin. Her eyes, still kitten blue with bold flecks of beautiful green, were dulled with the gray tint of death. 

No stars sparkled in her ghostly fur. 

There were no stars, Starclan hadn’t claimed her yet! Bluestar could fix this, she could save her. If Starclan hadn’t taken her, then Bluestar would. She leaned down, aiming to clasp her jaws around the kits scruff, desperately hoping they’d meet skin this time. 

Her teeth clicked together as Firekit backed away. To Bluestars horror, she could make out the trees and snow behind her dear daughter. 

Even worse she could see, only a few fox-lengths away, a tiny bundle that laid still and silent in the snow, their ginger fur being caught by the harsh wind as the flakes slowly buried it in the viciously cold depths of a drift. 

Firekits face was solemn as she leaned down towards her, locking their eyes together. “Oh, mama.” She sighed, her high-pitched voice much too grim for the cheerful kit that danced in Bluestars memories. ”It’s time to wake up.” 

The storm vanished from around Bluestar and she fell, legs churning, into darkness. Reaching out her paws desperately, she tried with all her might to take Firekit with her but they slipped through the she-kit silently. 

With a jolt, Bluestar awakened in her nest. She panted heavily, looking around the den for a splash of ginger fur. Nothing but empty shadows greeted her. 

A sob escaped her muzzle and she buried her nose in her paws, letting them muffle the noises. Her shoulders heaved with the effort and she felt she could burst with regret. _’I should’ve told her I loved her!’_ she mourned. 

Outside the den, a bitterly cold wind howled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was Firekit sad times.
> 
> Now its *claps* Bluestar sad times.
> 
> The actual storyline will begin next chapter, I was just doin some character development.


	5. Chapter 5

Firekit trailed after Bluestar with a bored yawn. The night around them was gorgeous and she’d much rather her mother be asleep and safe so Firekit could go enjoy it without the guilt of leaving her alone.

Unfortunately for her star-gazing plans, Graypaw saw it fit to seek out tonight. Bluestar and Lionheart had decided to track the tom and see how he managed on his own rather than immediately drag his sorry hide home. 

Firekit had watched with interest as he challenged two young kittypets who had wandered past the border. The short battle between all three hadn’t been that vicious. She smiled, it had actually been sort of cute. 

Graypaw had lost, of course, to numbers but he handled the defeat gracefully. He settled down with a good scratch and shot the two puffed up kittypets a goofy smile. It seems he’d decided he wanted to try and befriend the two. 

Bluestar moved forward, striding from the forest with Lionheart at her side. Firekit followed instinctively but didn’t pay much attention to their words. She was too busy studying the kittypets. 

One was a black and white tom, a typical kittypet if she’d ever seen one. He was plump and short, cowering behind his companion with scared whimpers. His blue eyes were blown wide in terror. Finding nothing notable, Firekit let her eyes drift to his companion and felt her ears prick up. 

She was a brown tabby with white paws and a white chest. She couldn’t have been much older than six moons but the way she held herself was much like a grown warrior. With pride and dignity. 

Firekit flew closer, looking her over. She didn’t have any muscles and her fur still had tufts of kitten fur but there was a restlessness to her that Firekit just couldn’t place. 

She seemed more like a warrior apprentice than a kittypet. 

It seemed she thought the same, “Wow..” she breathed, drawing Firekits attention to the conversation she’d been ignoring, “That sounds amazing, I wish I could live in a place like that!” 

Firekit saw Bluestars face tighten, “The clans are no place for kittypets. Take your companion and go.” She ordered, flicking her tail at Lionheart to escort them back to the border. 

The golden tom moved forward, shoving the two with stern paws, “Come on, back home with you.” He grumbled, shoving harder when the brown tabby tried to fight back. 

”Wait!” She hissed, trying to dodge around him, “I want to hear more!” Her eyes were flashing with admiration and a longing that rivaled Firekits own. 

She tipped her head as Lionheart grabbed the pink collar around the tabbys neck and heaved her off into the bushes. “What a waste.” She aimed the words towards Bluestars blank face, “With a few moons of training, she could’ve done good. A useless companion though.”

”Come, Graypaw.” Bluestar murmured, ignoring Firekits words as per usual. She wrapper her tail over the young toms shoulders, 

“Lets go home.” 

~~~~ 

The next morning, thankfully, came quickly. Firekit had spent the night beside Bluestar, tossing and turning. She didn’t know why but her paws were twitching, anxious to do something. 

Sitting in the camp had not been enough so with a reluctant brush of her tail, she’d bid Bluestar goodbye and left with the sun-high patrol. 

It wasn’t something she did often, mostly she’d prefer to stay beside the nursery and scare kits away from mischief but every once and a while, her boredom would overwhelm her. 

Besides, Frostfurs new litter was a nightmare. Cinderkit refused to leave her be, even when she ducked down into the camp wall. Brightkit and Thornkit were okay company but Cinderkit was just too much for Firekits meek personality. 

She liked Brackenkit the most. He was calm and quiet. She found herself seeking him out sometimes, just to sit and be in eachothers company. 

The tom-kit was very in tune with emotions and if he thought Firekit was having a bad day, he’d keep his more energetic siblings away from her with some meaningless games. 

He couldn’t always distract Swiftkit, though. That tom was an absolute pain in her side. He was so arrogant and stuck up because he was the oldest nursery kit. Firekit couldn’t stand arrogance, especially if the cat hadn’t even done anything to _earn_ bragging rights. 

She knew he was puffing up his chest to hide his true self. Stars, she could see his lacking self esteem from highstones. It would almost be enough to gain Firekits pity, if he wasn’t such an insufferable brat. Luckily, he’d stop being able to see her within the moon. 

She rolled her eyes, it still felt like such a long while. 

His sister, Lynxkit, would be a better warrior than him if he continued down that path. The tiny tortoiseshell she-kit was kind and slight but she had passion, that made all the difference. 

Shaking her head of nursery thoughts, she twitched her paws. The antsy feeling of the night didn’t ho away as Redtail led the group towards sunningrocks. If anything, it got worse. 

”Graypaw said their names were Princess and Smudge.” Ravenpaws quiet voice drew her from her thoughts. She glanced at him, seeing his head ducked in conversation with Tigerclaw. 

She didn’t hang out around either of them much. Tigerclaw was a strange tom. Being around him sent her fur prickling along her spine. He often reminded her of the shadows she’d see at night, always watching with the darkest of intentions. 

Ravenpaw was different. He sent pangs of pity through her still heart. His family had been taken from him at such a young age. His mother, gone at two moons and Chestnutkit, his sister and best friend, torn away at four moons. 

Cherrypaw was the final vine that held Dustpaw and Ravenpaw together. Fierce and energetic, Firekit liked to think she would’ve made a fine warrior. A fox attack had different ideas. 

Four or five had stormed the camp, tearing into dens and attacking any cat in their path. Cherrypaw had fought bravely, defending the nursery at all costs but she had only been an apprentice for a moon. 

She didn’t have nearly enough training to fight a battle of that magnitude. The lead fox had overwhelmed her and gotten her neck between its teeth. A quick clamp of its jaws and, just like that, Cherrypaws life was cut off. 

She’d screamed at and threatened Graywing. Ignoring him, she had ran around the camp, trying in vain to get her clanmates to notice her but in the end, she bowed her head and left for the stars with a sniffle.

Her death marked the final break between Dustpaw and Ravenpaw. The young brown tabby had openly disowned his brother and now spent his time with Sandpaw, criticizing Ravenpaws every move. 

Firekit often found herself using her tantrums energy to pelt them with pebbles or snake a bramble out from the camp wall to land under their stepping paws. 

She never liked bullies. 

She didn’t do it much. The pain it caused her to work herself into that much of a tantrum was hardly ever worth it but some days? She just couldn’t handle their spitefulness. 

Besides, Ravenpaw needed at least one cat on his side and she saw something of herself in him. He was alone in the world, all the family that cared for him tore away at a young age, leaving him with one who didn’t seem to see nor hear his calls. 

It was almost like he was too cold too. Completely ignored and cast aside by all in the clan. Even his own mentor seemed bothered by his presence.

She could see it in the dark toms curled lip now, “I don’t care what those bumbling kittypets were called, Ravenpaw!” He hissed, his talons scrapping the stones of Sunningrocks. 

Firekit glared at him angrily. Some cats just had no manners. She didn’t understand how a cat as sweet as Leopardfoot raised such a brute. 

She nodded in approval as she noticed a sharp pebble that lay a few whisker-lengths from the mean toms stepping paw. Ah, such small victories. A smile bloomed across her muzzle at his expected yelp of pain. 

”Starclan-forsaken pebble!” He growled, lifting up a forepaw to shake it. A tiny droplet of blood welled from his soft pawpad but Firekit didn’t feel even a tiny spike of pity. She hated rude cats as much as she hated bullies. 

Redtail drew her attention to him with a booming hiss, “Oakheart!” She whipped around at the name, starring in horror at the sight of her real father climbing out of the river. 

A spotted she-cat and Stonefur shadowed his sides. Behind him a pawful of other, unimportant to Firekit, cats trailed out of the water, shaking their fur. 

She swallowed. Their eyes were glinting with a dark malice as they stalked towards the Thunderclan patrol. They spoke no words but they didn’t need too. Even Firekit, who had never seen border battles, knew they had come to fight. 

The cats clashed together with a hateful yowl, tumbling about in flying tufts of fur and splashes of blood as claws met flesh. Firekit ducked as Mousefur rolled past her, locked in a screeching match against a Riverclan tom. 

Floating to get above the mess of a fight, she could only gape at it’s brutality. Below her, she could see Ravenpaw, slashing weakly at a she-cat twice his size in defense of a bloodied Runningwind. 

”Maybe I should’ve stayed at camp.” She winced as the Riverclan molly delivered a vicious swipe to Ravenpaws shoulder. The tom wailed as blood welled and dripped from the open wound like a river. 

Her still heart clenched when she saw Tigerclaw was digging his sharp claws deep into Stonefurs pelt. Her brother screeched loudly as the large gashes spilled blood onto the cold stones below them. 

”Stop!” Her and Oakhearts voices tangled together as the both rushed to the gray tom. “Warriors don’t kill!” Firekit growled, wishing she could throw the stone that wounded his paw at the warriors head. 

Oakheart had a similar idea but he could actually hurt Tigerclaw. He reared up on his hind legs, smashing his wide paws into Tigerclaws head over and over, batting him away from Stonefur with the dazing blows. 

”No Thunderclan cat will ever harm him again!” The russet tom growled, slashing across Tigerclaws muzzle with one last angry swipe. Blood spurted from the wound, instantly telling Firekit it would scar badly. 

The tabby yowled, retreating from the fight to go help Mousefur with her own. The tom she had been fighting had gotten the upper paw and was digging his fangs into her shoulder deeply. 

”Retreat!” Redtails screech spun her around. Oakheart had vanished from her side, jumping back into the battle with renewed vigor after nudging Stonefur to his paws. 

Redtails call had come from below the tallest rock where he was grabbling with Oakheart, kicking the tom in his soft underbelly as he tried to get out from under him. 

Firekit flew closer, willing Redtail to follow his own order and flee. This was obviously a lost battle. Thunderclan was clearly out numbered and they had already chased away Mousefur and Runningwind. Even now, she could see Tigerclaw ordering Ravenpaw back to camp. 

Finally, Oakheart delivered one last nasy bite to the back of Redtails neck and jumped off the Thunderclan deputy, allowing him to skid around one of the large stones, his paws slipping in blood. 

Firekit felt a feeling of foreboding built in her gut as the russet tom smirked arrogantly before raising his head, letting out a yowl of victory. 

She heard it before she saw it. A deafening grating noise filled her senses. She could see Oakhearts paws vibrating as Sunningrocks shook. 

A shadow came over the tom and Firekit looked up. She could only stare in horror as huge stones fell from their perch on the largest stone, falling through the air with a deadly speed. 

A soft gasp left her as Oakhearts yowl cut off. 

It turned into a screech of pain as her form flickered violently. She fell, unable to find the strength to glide while her body fizzled in and out of existence. 

She forced her eyes open, watching with terror as the pebbles of Sunningrocks showed clearly through her almost nonexistent paws. They faded a bit more then stopped. 

Panting, Firekit laid still for a few moments, shivering from the cold snow in her fur. Looking her pelt over, she found she had faded horribly. It looked as if a harsh wind would blow her pelt into fine wisps of ginger smoke. It seemed Oakheart had been one of the cats who remembered her best. 

Stumbling to her paws as Riverclanners wailed around her, she followed after Redtail, trying not to pay attention to how her form still flickered. She didn’t want to see Graywing again for at least eight more moons. Especially if he was there for someone dear to her kin. 

She could hear a scuffling noise ahead of her and zipped around the bend to check on Redtail. She could only gape in horror at the scene infront of her. 

Redtail laid twitching on the ground, his neck oozing blood from a bite wound on its back. She drew in a sharp breath. That was _Oakhearts_ bite! 

It was far too deep for Redtail to survive. If she looked closely enough, she could make out bone gleaming white beneath the blood and fur. Tigerclaw stood beside the tom, his paws coated in blood from what she could only assume was his attempt to stop the flow. 

It seemed he knew Redtail wouldn’t survive either. The look on his face was twisted into one of both acceptance and shock. Below it, she thought she could make out a tiny hint of remorse as he leaned down toward the fallen deputy. 

She hit the ground in pain as Tigerclaw bit down hard into Redtails neck, burying his fangs deep into the wound as he tried to put the deputy of his misery. Redtail didn’t remember her well but it still caused her to fade a bit more as his life drained from him in warm red waves. 

She had never seen such a brutal kill. Tigerclaw watched, almost uninterested as Redtail gagged. She felt a pang of worry for him. He must be in shock. 

Redtails breath gurgled and bubbled at his lips. He spat blood that pooled around him in a puddle. Firekit floated a bit closer, her heart clenching in sorrow. 

She knew what that kind of betrayal felt like, even if Tigerclaw was just trying to make it faster. To have someone you thought cared for you turn around and... 

Well, she knew what it felt like. 

Redtails eyes were glazed and rapidly fading away. His jaws moved, trying to form words around foaming blood. He looked stunned as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Perhaps he couldn’t, he was staring at her after all. “Who...?” He rasped, face wracked with confusion. He gasped again and the bright yellow of his eyes sparked once before it dulled into the glaze of death. 

Firekit bowed her head in grief as Redtail rose to stand beside his corpse, whipping his head around in confusion. Once he calmed down, he simply watched Tigerclaw carry his body off, his eyes glistening with an emotion she didn’t know. 

Firekit didn’t know why she stayed but she did. She watched sadly as Graywing turned the bend, awakening Oakheart on his way. The russet tom followed him obediently, snorting once he saw Redtail. 

”I didn’t think I bit you that hard.” He joked weakly, his voice tight. When no one laughed, he sighed, turning to Graywing with a question on his face. ”Will she be happy to see me?”

Firekit tilted her head, wondering who the tom was talking about. Graywing sighed heavily, “Firekit doesn’t walk with us, Oakheart.” He murmured, resting his tail on the toms shoulders. 

Hissing, Firekit swung around, “Certainly not at your side, _murderer!_ ” she spat, sprinting from the rocks. She said a silent prayer, wishing Redtail good luck on his journey.

She wished no such thing for his killer. 

She wasn’t familiar with the clans territory and if not for the red trail of blood, she might not have been able to find her way home so quickly. 

She fazed through the camp wall, coming to a halt on the side of the clearing. Redtails body was laid out, being cleaned by Spottedleafs practiced paws. The mollies eyes glistened with grief as she carefully swiped a pawful of bloody moss from Redtails muzzle. 

For a moment, Firekit was confused on why she was so upset, then she remembered the two were littermates. Flicking through her memories, she remembered that Willowpelt was also the deputys sister. 

Avoiding the vigil, she skittered towards the medicine den. She’d seen Ravenpaw get wounded and wanted to be absolutely sure he would live. Even if Dustpaw said otherwise, she knew that he’d be devastated if the black tom died.

The wounded apprentice was unconscious, twisting in a nightmare. A bundle of bitter smelling herbs was stuck to his shoulder and his fur was radiating heat, a telltale sign of infection setting in. Drifting closer to him, she let out a sigh. 

_‘Freezing air whipping against her, Bluestar sitting atop the Highrock, Goosefeather being carried from camp.‘_

The strange buzzing began around her and she gasped, willing it to leave before she accidentally hurt Ravenpaw. As aways, her request was ignored. Luckily, it was dull. She had not worked herself up enough for it to be a danger yet. 

Opening her eyes, she saw no change in Ravenpaws troubled sleep. Growling low in her chest, she floated to lie next to him and tried once more. 

_‘Mosspool walking alongside Mistyfoot and Stonefur..’_ a cool wind whistled through the den, chasing away the Greenleaf heat as Firekits chest throbbed painfully. She buried her face in her paws, letting the hateful feeling surge through her. 

When she could feel Ravenpaw shivering next to her, she ceased her efforts and let out a echoing wail. The den around her was far colder than it had been when she’d come in. 

Next to her, Ravenpaw peeled his eyes open and looked around. They were glazed with a tired, bitter, anger that died away into terror swiftly. He looked around, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny for something though what it was escaped him. 

He narrowed his eyes, willing his dazed mind to gasp an image that skittered away from his paws. He wracked his memories, bringing up nothing more than a flash of ginger fur and a terrible chill. 

He rolled over, moaning, to climb to his paws and hunch down. He felt strange, so awfully strange. His belly was hollow with sorrow and a weak rage prickled the fur of his neck but he knew, without a doubt, that the emotions weren’t his. 

They didn’t feel right, it felt as if he was watching another cat suffer them yet they were in his own body. 

He breathed out a breath as the feelings faded away. He was being ridiculous. He probably felt cold from bloodloss and the other feelings were just after effects of shock. That was all. 

Even if it wasn’t, Ravenpaw had much worse problems to deal with than an infected shoulder wound. 

His paws shook and he curled in on himself, groaning miserably. Weakly, he rested his head on the side of the nest, wondering how many cats had to have been hurt for Spottedleaf to scatter so many herbs.

Firekit bit her paw harshly, digging the nubs of never-to-be-teeth in far enough that, if she had any blood, it would’ve dripped from the small appendage. She felt no pain from it but it still distracted her from the icy buring in her chest. 

At least she had cooled Ravenpaw down. She knew from experience that a fever getting too high would kill a kit or apprentice before they ever woke up. Poor Cricketkit. 

Panting lightly, she stood and floated slightly. Even though she knew she’d feel no pain, she was still weary of setting her paw on the ground. 

Beside her, Ravenpaws eyes drooped, falling lower and lower as the poppy seed Spottedleaf gave him earlier took effect. Feeling satisfied, Firekit glided from the den, shoving down her swirling emotions.

She looked around the clearing, seeing Bluestar curled up beside Redtails body. Pity laced itself through her heart when she glimpsed Sandpaw off to the side, her head buried in Brindlefaces chest fur. 

The light mollys shoulders were heaving with sobs. Dustpaw leaned against her, his eyes hollow with grief. 

With a reluctant sigh, Firekit silently promised them a moon of peace. After all, she could only expect cats like those two would turn their grief into anger. 

Firekit predicted Ravenpaw would be the one to feel it most, though.

Tigerclaw sat off to the side, talking to Whitestorm and Longtail. His shadow, and the bane of Firekits existence, Darkstripe hovered behind him, his yellow eyes glittering with admiration as Tigerclaw spun a tale of the battle. 

”Then Oakheart reared back and clamped his jaws around Redtails neck. I tried to get there but by the time I had,” he shook his wide head, as if in pain, “It was too late. I could only strike Oakheart down to avenge him.” 

Firekit curled her lip. To think, she had pitied him! Only a warrior as arrogant and brutish as Tigerclaw would take credit for killing a warrior. As if that was something to be _proud_ of! 

Whitestorm seemed to agree with her. His fur was prickling slightly and she could see his eyes twitching as he hid his true expression. He quietly excused himself, striding away with a shake of his head. 

Tigerclaws two followers didn’t seem to care that warriors had died that day or that, apparently, Tigerclaw had killed one of them for no other reason than revenge. 

Firekit knew the tale wasn’t true and that Tigerclaw was probably just trying to boost his reputation but stars, she could screech at him for it! 

She had excused his real murder, Redtails, only because the tom had been dying anyway but in this tale, he was killing Oakheart for something as petty as revenge! 

”Warriors. Don’t. Kill.” She growled, her tiny claws unsheathing. Especially not without valid reason! 

Looking at the group, she found herself nearly unable to stomach Darkstripe and Longtails awe-struck expressions. They were lapping up the twisted tale like they were dying of thirst. 

She knew the value of life better than any cat in this clearing. To watch this group of healthy, living, cats treat it so callously, so coldly.... 

She shook violently, a scream building in her chest. 

She didn’t like Oakheart. She never had but she didn’t like Chestnutkit either and she’d grieved for her. It wasn’t as simple as liking a cat. Life was a precious, fragile, thing and to hear someone _gloat_ about destroying it? 

”I don’t think the fool even saw my fangs coming!” Tigerclaw snickered, bumping his shoulder with Darkstripes. 

_”SHUT UP!”_ Firekit howled, slashing at the tom as hard as she could. Behind him, the camp wall unraveled in a jumble of sharp brambles. A tangled mess of thorns rained down upon the three toms, sending them scattering with startled yowls. 

They hollered, jumping around as they yanked thorns from their pelts, tearing off bunches of fur with it. 

”Lionheart, Patchpelt!” Tigerclaw hissed when he’d cleaned the last of the thorns from his pelt, “Duty calls.” He swung his tail toward the gaping hole. Darkstripe slithered up to his side, his muzzle curled in a sneer. 

”Why call them? They obviously didn’t do it right the first time.” He mewed sullenly, picking a few thorns from his shoulder. 

They mumbled some more as they trailed away but Firekit didn’t follow. She trembled in the air, gasping for unneeded air. Slowly, she sunk to the ground, resting on it tiredly. 

Stars, what she wouldn’t give for a nap!

Today had been exhausting but at the very least, it was almost over. A fact she was reminded over as the shadows of the clearing spread far, beginning to slither as they crept towards the oblivious cats. 

Firekit floated away from them, her paws still twitching with anger. She found a spot in the clearing, nestled beside the elders den where no kits would bother her. 

Bluestar’s voice called from the Highrock, drawing Firekits attention up to the molly. Redtail’s body still lay in the clearing below, pale gray in the fading light but the kit paid it no mind. It wasn’t as if it was actually the former deputy. Redtail was in Starclan. 

“A new deputy must be appointed,” Bluestar meowed. “But first, let us give thanks to StarClan for the life of Redtail. Tonight he sits with his fellow warriors among the stars.” Silence fell as all the cats looked up into the sky, which was beginning to darken as the sun sank low. 

Firekit willed her mother to hurry up and finish speaking. Once she was asleep, Firekit was either going to spend time in Cinderkits dream or go to watch the stars gleam. She didn’t think she could stand to lay, silent and alert, in Bluestars den for another night. 

“And now I shall name ThunderClan’s new deputy,” the leader continued. “I say these words before the body of Redtail, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice.” 

Looking around at the cats of the clan, she wondered which one would get the honor. She hoped against hope that her mother wouldn’t choose anyone like Tigerclaw. 

Any cat who, not only lied about killing, but relished in the idea of others believing he’d done it was not a cat that Firekit wanted in any position of power. 

_’Anyone but him.’_ she willed, reaching out a paw towards the highrock. Darkstripe slithered forward, his yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Firekit corrected herself, _’Anyone but them.’_

Thankfully, Starclan heard her for once. “Lionheart,” meowed Bluestar, “will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.” 

Firekit breathed a sigh of relief, grinning as the clan cheered the toms name. Frostfur charged from her post in the nursery, tackling him with a purr as their four kits danced around them with excited questions. 

The smile slipped from her face as she looked around at the clan. Most everyone was cheering for Lionheart as they waited to congratulate him but Firekit saw the tom sitting farthest away. 

Firekit swallowed hard at the look on Tigerclaws face. It was a dark, vengeful look that twisted his handsome features into an ugly snarl. He closed his eyes and took a slow, measured breath. The hateful expression on his muzzle cleared into a small, charming, smile. 

He walked up to Lionheart, bumping against him so hard that the golden deputy stumbled. Tigerclaw watched him gather himself, his amber eyes gleaming. 

The calculating, cruel look in them made Firekit shudder with more than just her ever-present chill. Thinking back, she thought about the expression on his face when he’d leaned down to put Redtail out of his misery. 

His eyes had been narrowed, glittering faintly in the sunlight. Even as his jaws opened, she could see his muzzle curled into a small, strained, smile. She had thought his face had just been pulled tight as he held back his grief. 

Now though, seeing the dark look that reflected Thistleclaws from so many seasons ago, she began to truly wonder if that had really been _remorse_ she’d seen and not _smugness_. 

After all, Firekit wasn’t good with emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incase I’m confusing anyone with how Firekit feels pain, she can’t feel wounds since she technically can’t be wounded.
> 
> Most of her pain is just her being overwhelmed by her sorrow or anger and it causes her such emotional distress that it _feels_ physically painful.
> 
> The ONLY actual physical pain she can feel is fading, which is about as painful as it sounds.
> 
> Explanation for Ravenpaw scene: She can intentionally work herself up enough to effect the living world but, as I tried to convey, she doesn’t like to as the power isn’t under her control as of yet and has the ability to hurt someone if she really lost it. Also it make her sad.
> 
> As usual: any questions? Ask em


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadowclan grump is guilty.

The next few moons went on quickly and quietly. Firekit had long since stopped noting how many seasons passed but she knew by the color of the swaying leaves that leaf-fall was approaching.

It’s creeping presence swept over the forest in a gradual crawl, dimming the striking greenleaf colors until they faded to dull browns and vibrant orange.

Firekit watched them fall into the camp, smiling as the playful kits pounced upon them with delighted squeals. Swiftkit and Lynxkit had stopped seeing her by now but she still sought out Brakenkits company on long days. 

The kits had gotten older, though, and now they were scared of her. They had realized that something was off about her. There was no queen to be her mother, she never grew, never changed, and was always so very cold.

They didn’t understand her and they feared what they couldn’t understand.

It did make her sad, in a way. Cinderkit no longer badgered her for games and, annoying as it’d been, Firekit found herself missing it in the same way she missed most things. A relief that it couldn’t pester her anymore but an ache at the thought of it never happening again.

She won’t need to be sad for long. The seasons marched on and kits were born in every one. There would be some soon if Brindlefaces swelling belly was any indication. The tabby would move to the nursery within the moon and Firekit would have more kits to pretend she disliked.

She wondered how many there’d be. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many. She didn’t want to watch another kit leave for the stars for the rest of her existence. 

There was a higher chance she’d be forced to if the litter was large, since prey would get scarce and Brindlefaces milk would get low. Not to mention the snow. 

She shuddered. The cold had no mercy for the young.

Sighing, she shook the thought from her mind and turned over. “I think,” she murmured to Goosefeathers grave, “That I’m as mad as you.” She grinned down at the crumbling stone sadly. 

She missed him dearly. In this lonely existence, he’d been her only true company. 

The kits that saw her for such fleeting moments were not friends. Real ones, anyway. They always forgot her by the time they were apprenticed and joined in teasing the younger kits about making up stories of Scarykit. 

She’d pondered many times if she should travel into dreams and make her companions there but hardly any cats remembered their dreams and if they did.. 

Well, She’d been called a nightmare too many times. 

Only Bluestar, who knew her fate, did not shudder at the sight of her. Instead, the old leader would wail, which was even worse. Firekit didn’t want to scare any of her clanmates or make them sad but hardly anyone was ever pleased to see her. 

Only very young kits were but, like Frostfurs litter, they’d grow to fear her. Then forget her and, eventually, mock her image. 

She paused, letting her paw drift over Goosefeathers stone again. “I wish you’d come visit.” She sighed, “Even if you couldn’t see me, I think seeing you would do me good.” 

Yawning, she rolled onto her back, “Maybe you could explain.” She didn’t elaborate but she didn’t need too. Goosefeathers would already know. That and he wasn’t actually here. 

She’d been feeling such strange things lately. Things Goosefeather might’ve been able to explain in his rambling way. The first creeping feeling she noticed was fear, courtesy of a certain jumpy apprentice. 

Whenever Ravenpaw would pass for training, she could almost taste his fear. It fell off him in waves, poisoning him. It was slow but the devastating affects were vicious. 

His unnatural fear had left a wound across his mind. She could see it in the defeated hunch of his shoulders and the timidness that only grew worse as the moons marched on. 

She didn’t know why or what he was afraid of but she knew he’d need to treat it soon. The more time that passed, the worse it grew. His mind was infected by it, oozing with doubts about his every move and festering with putrid nightmares. 

They coiled around him like an adder in the night. It would often leave him thrashing and rolling. He fought them, of course but he never won. By the time dawn rose, he was already awake, having spent the night screeching in agony as the adders squeezed his sanity away. 

Firekit had thought about helping him but her last experience with a bad dream world chased any pity she had away. 

The second change was something she couldn’t quite put her paw on. It was malicious and cold but to her, it had no motive or, at least, one she could see. 

She mostly called it ‘Thistleclaw’ for he was the only other who had carried this type of darkness before. Sometimes, she called it just that. Darkness. 

It was not fear, like Ravenpaw, this she knew. 

No, Darkness was a different story. It crept over cats almost never sticking to them. There was only one exception to that, Tigerclaw. 

She’d seen it the first time only a few days after Redtails death and Lionhearts promotion. It had slowly crawled to the tabby warrior and latched onto his paws. From then on, Firekit hated him. 

When he stalked past, she couldn’t help but retreat into the camp wall. The feeling she’d had all those moons ago when Lionheart was named deputy had only strengthened as she watched him change. 

She could see Darkness wrapped around him, crawling up his legs to cover his body. It twirled over itself gleefully as it slithered over his pelt. It was almost as if his dark stripes were alive. 

Thistleclaw had been similar but she’d only noticed his shadow, which had slipped and hissed like those of the night. 

It had heaved with jealousy, wrapping its dark weeds around his legs, clawing at him until it drove him to the Riverclan border in a desperate attempt to outdo Bluestar, to prove himself better. 

She wondered where his shadow had dragged him after all his blood had been spilt. 

His had been far different in its viciousness, more subtle and subdued. A flicker of Darkness here and there. Tigerclaws, it scared her. His was more alive, more than Tigerclaw himself, perhaps. 

It seemed to cover him, trying to become a second pelt, a second skin. If Firekit got close enough, she could make out faint whispers. A harsh, grating, noise that would spit vile sounds into the tabbys ear. 

He never reacted to the hissing verbally but Firekit knew he heard it. A flick of his ear, a turn of his head, the tightening of his muzzle told her all she needed to know. 

Firekit was far more scared than she’d like to admit. Not for herself, of course. She was too cold, nothing worse came after that. No, she was worried for Bluestar and her littermates. 

For seasons, she’d never seen more than Thistleclaws shadow promising violence but now she was seeing the nights darkness creeping onto cats. Things were changing and Firekit didn’t like change. 

Deep in her still heart, she knew what was happening. The evil she was born to stop was coming and without her, it would win. There was little she could do but shove that thought down and hope it was wrong. 

It could be. It wasn’t a completely hopeless thought. After all, Starclan had said she would save the clans and here she was, a fading kit that had gotten too cold seasons and seasons ago. She couldn’t save the clans. 

She couldn’t even save herself. 

Shaking herself free of her depressing thoughts, she sighed and floated towards the stream that ran opposite from the owl tree. There was no point to thinking of such things, what was done was done and what would happen would come regardless of how much she dreaded it. 

She smiled gently as a vole paused a few whiskers lengths from her paws. That was one advantage to her current state. Prey couldn’t see her so, if she was in the forest, she could watch all the adorable mice and fluffy squirrels that she wanted. 

She wasn’t in the forest much but it had been a long while since she’d seen Goosefeather. Whenever things got tough or strange, she always found herself at his grave, asking for companionship he could no longer give. 

It hadn’t started out like that today. She had originally just been following Bluestar as she led a tiny patrol towards Windclans border. She didn’t pay much attention to clan affairs but she knew by her mothers urgent pawsteps that she was worried. 

They’d passed the Owl tree and Firekit had decided that it was time she’d visited Goosefeather. That was all. It wasn’t as if she was scared of another clan. 

Her ear twitched at the sound of rustling behind her. It sounded as if a badger was attempting to be quiet, a lopsided crinkling. She smirked, watching with amusement as the vole skittered away. 

”Five moons as an apprentice and you still can’t find balance, Graypaw?” She snorted as the burly tom emerged from the flora with a displeased hiss. “I’m starting to think even I could hunt better.” 

Graypaw didn’t respond or react to her jabs, he was sniffing at the trail and gaping his jaws to try to track the tiny rodent. 

”I thought you were going with Bluestar? Did she send you away?” Her questions went unanswered as usual but Firekit was simply talking for the sake of it. 

Jabbering whatever happened to cross her mind had long since become a nasty habit. After all, one could get away with saying anything if no one could hear it. 

”Foxdung!” She chirped, just to prove it to herself. She giggled lightly, hardly noticing Graypaw slip from the clearing. Bluestar would’ve had her pelt if she’d heard her say such a bad word! 

Her giggling died away as she simply began floating through the forest. Going with Bluestar to explore another, possibility mean, clan wasn’t appealing. If they got attacked, Firekit could do nothing but watch it happen and she wasn’t even remotely fond of that idea. 

She supposed she could’ve gone with Graypaw but he wasn’t as fun when he was alone. Well, technically alone anyway. He grew quiet and serious, thinking of his life aloud. 

He would constantly wonder how he would die, in battle or from illness? He’d whisper questions meant for only Starclans ears: why his mother no longer came to speak with him, and if Darkstripe was favored more than him in the clan. 

It was majorly depressing. 

So Firekit avoided being alone with the tom as much as possible. It was slightly mean, she’d admit, but she was depressing enough on her own. Why would she want to make herself even more sad? Doing the opposite was the whole reason she bothered to wander near or in the dreams of kits and apprentices! 

The young cats were a breath of fresh air to be near. So energetic, and loud, and just _alive_. They buzzed with their youth, their hopeful dreams filling them until they overflowed like a stream bursting its banks. 

Their happiness and hope were like sunshine as they twirled around Firekit, filling her thoughts with the echo of bliss that followed a good sunning or the fulfillment of a plentiful days hunt. 

The joy of it rushed over Firekit, letting her have a taste of something she’d lost so long ago. Starclan, for those brief moments, she could swear she was warm. 

Every rose had thorns, however, and there was always the risk of her wandering into dreams filled with their insecurities, sorrows, fears, even their hatred could taint them. That was bad, Firekit didn’t like it when that happened. 

If they weren’t happy, if they were sad or angry, Firekit could feel that too. It made her colder and even pushed her to be mad as well. 

Their unhappiness was a dark cloud that swelled over them, billowing around their trembling form in an invisible storm. It howled and heaved, reaching out to Firekit and gleefully insisting she let it whirl over her as well. 

She tried not to, really, she did. It was a dangerous thing if she let their emotions influence her own. She was only the size of a kit, her tiny body couldn’t contain or control the violent, seething, emotions of two cats. 

It would burst out of her in furious mesh of thorns and stones, hailing down on those who upset her. She’d almost always feel guilty afterwards but there wasn’t much she could do to apologize, short of filling their dreams with her most pleasant memories. 

A rank scent touched her nose as she smiled at the memory of filling Lynxkits dream with her first Greenleaf. The little tortoiseshell had squealed, chasing the butterflies that Firekit had flew among happily. 

Raising a paw to her nose, she looked around in disgust, wondering what in Starclans name could produce such a ghastly scent. Nothing greeted her sight line immediately but the scent was growing worse the farther she moved towards the border. 

Under the vile stench of sickness and fast approaching death, Firekit could smell the distinctive scent of an elderly she-cat. 

Sighing, she shook her head and moved forward. By the scent alone she knew the molly was going to be in a heap of trouble if she received no help. Unfortunately, the only one to find her couldn’t get her herbs or prey. 

Floating a bit closer, Firekit peeked over the edge of a bunch of bracken and sucked in a sharp breath. There was a ragged, matted, lump of gray fur slowly slinking towards the border. 

The she-cat was moaning miserably, stumbling about as if she was in agony. As Firekit drew closer, she tensed, her fur bushing up. 

Freezing, Firekit wondered if the elder was close enough to death to see her. However, the molly didn’t acknowledge the floating kit in front of her. She took a breath and began moving again, if not a bit faster. 

Firekit followed her as she went, if only to make sure she didn’t die on Thunderclan territory. The elder was shuddering as she walked, her broken and yellowed teeth clicking together as her jaw chattered. 

”Do you have a cold?” Firekit wondered aloud. It was approaching Leaf-fall yes, but the air was still tinged with Greenleaf heat. The molly shouldn’t have been cold enough to shiver, especially with all her thick fur.

The elder did not respond as she crossed out of Thunderclan territory and into the forest beside Twolegplace. She only growled and muttered to herself, to lowly for Firekit to hear. 

Finally, she collapsed atop a patch of heather, her eyes slipping shut as she shivered more. “What in Starclans name is so cold?!” She muttered angrily, weakly lifting a paw against her muzzle to warm it, “I should have gotten away from it by now.” 

Firekit felt her eyes widen. The elder knew of Starclan. “Are you a clan cat?!” She yelped to the dozing cat. Panic built in her chest as she looked the skinny molly over. 

She was dying, that was obvious. She’d be dead before the sun rose in the next dawn. Firekit twitched uneasily, she didn’t know herbs! She couldn’t even touch the molly to apply them or tell someone the poor thing was out here! 

Bluestar! She needed to get Bluestar, she’d help the sickly clan cat! 

What was a clan cat doing all the way out here in such horrid condition anyway? Firekit paced in the air, her thoughts feeling utterly conflicted. She needed to get Bluestar but the clan cat would be dead by the time the leader slept! 

Letting her eyes slip to the snoozing elder, she thought quickly. “If I can’t wait to lead Bluestar here..” she murmured, floating down to press her nose into the elders head, “Maybe I can lead you instead.” 

Gritting her gums, the kit sent a quick prayer that it wouldn’t happen then shoved away any dark thought of wandering into a nightmare and pushed on. The dull ache wrapped around her head, pulsing lightly. 

It felt almost like she gave away a part of herself when she did this, like she did when she faded, though she knew entering the dream world had no such effects. 

The vine coiled tighter and tighter, squeezing her into the elders mind until it released with a quick snap. 

Opening her eyes, Firekit could only blink. She didn’t know where she was, she’d never seen this place before. Then again, if it wasn’t in Thunderclan camp, Firekit probably didn’t know it. 

Around her, could air swamped a tiny, tall, cavern. Before her rose a gigantic lump of dull stone, placed beneath a hole in the roof of the cave. Laying at the base of the stone was the elder. 

The molly was rolled on her side, her paws covering her face. “Starclan, how could you do this to my clan?” She mourned, her flat face screwing up, “Please, lead Brokenstar from them. Punish me, not them!” 

Taking a moment to grin in satisfaction, she’d been right the molly was a clan cat, Firekit tipped her head and trotted to hide behind the lump of rock. She wondered what the molly was blabbering on about. She knew Brokenstar, or at least she’d heard of him, he was Shadowclans leader. 

Sitting down and wrapping her stiff, frozen, tail around her icy paws, Firekit sniffed from the other side of the stone, “Starclan has a bad habit of punishing the wrong cats.” She mewed hauntingly. 

The elder went silent in her musings. Claws scrapped the ground as she stood with a booming yowl, “Who’s there?!” She called, peering into the darkness around them. 

Firekit dug through her memories, pulling up the Thunderclan grave site on the day Chestnutkit had died. It had been peaceful before she’d discovered the tragedy and, somehow, she knew this molly would need peace.

The cave around them warped, bowing to Firekits demand and twisting until the two cats sat beside the owl tree. 

Firekit padded up to her, having no need to hide herself this time. This cat wasn’t an old clanmate or someone who’d grieved for her so Firekit cared not if she briefly spooked her.

”Hello.” She greeted simply, waving her tail at the gaping molly. The elder recoiled as she spoke, her chest heaving. Her ears pressed flat to her head as she stared at Firekit with pure horror. 

The elder remained still as Firekit plopped onto her hunches. “You’re sick, aren’t you?” Firekit questioned, wrinkling her nose as the scent of the molly wafted up to her nose. “But you’re a clan cat, are you not? How did your clan let you get so bad?” 

The nasty habit of blabbering her thoughts was rearing it’s head but this time, someone could hear her. Granted, that someone was curled into a tight ball, staring at her as if she was going to eat them but the shivering lump could still hear her. 

Suddenly, realization dawned on the elders face as her teeth chattered, “You’re whats making me so cold!” She hissed, glaring at the snow covered kit angrily. What on earth would a Starclan kit be chasing her around all day for? 

She knew it couldn’t be one of the kits born under Brokenstar’s harsh reign. Yellowfang knew all the Shadowclan kits that had perished within his lifetime and this wasn’t one of them. 

Ginger kits were rare, not as rare as white kits, but still uncommon in the dark-pelted Shadowclan. One, even as young as this one looked, would have stuck out in her memory. 

Besides, it had been seasons and seasons since they lost a kit from snow. Most lost from cold died because of sickness anyway, not the actual frost. This little ginger kit, peering up at her curiously, had frozen to death without a doubt. 

Even with her aged eyes, Yellowfang could see the frost clinging to every strand of fine kitten fluff. It hugged her back tightly, compacted down and smothering her fur. A chill radiated off of it, so cold that Yellowfangs bones began to ache. 

The tips of the kits ears were blue and stiff, frostbitten if she had to guess. Her whole image disturbed Yellowfang, however. She’d met many Starclan cats, even kits, but this one felt unnatural. She had no dazzling stars or warmth. 

She looked as if she was a walking corpse, forever frozen in her last moments. Her eyes were not lit by the stars of wisdom, they were filmed by death and glinted with a deep sorrow.

Yellowfang trembled harder, her fur feeling stiff and frozen though she knew it wasn’t. Her power was reaching out, feeling the dead kits own faded body. 

“Why aren’t you trembling?” Yellowfang chattered cautiously, her ears pricked curiously. 

The kit laid down, tucking her paws beneath her chest. “Why would I? I have no body to warm up anymore.” She pointed out sullenly, “Besides, I’ve long since gotten used to the cold.” 

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes, studying the kit even more. Normal kits didn’t speak in such a way. They were loud and sloppy with their words, unpracticed in the ways of speech. Especially moon-old kits. Mostly, they cried out for milk and clumsily copied their mothers. 

Blinking, she realized that the trees and stones were showing clearly through the kit. She was fading and, apparently, had been for a while. This, coupled with her speech, told Yellowfang that she was dealing with an old spirit. 

It _could_ be older than her but Yellowfang didn’t believe so. Kits faded fast, yes, but an entire generation of cats had to die for one to fade away. If this little mite still existed then she must have cats who still remember her and Yellowfang was older than the majority of clan cats. 

”What’s your name?” She asked, trying to soften her tone into the voice she used for sick kits. She had no reason to be so curious about the kit but she was. After all, it wasn’t everyday a random dead kit wandered into your dreams. 

The kit yawned, her pink gums displaying themselves. Tiny nubs lined her mouth but she had no actual teeth. Yellowfang was surprised to feel a stab of genuine sorrow for the long-dead kit. It hadn’t even got to taste prey. 

She didn’t answer Yellowfangs question for a long time. Rather, she swung her head back and forth, murmuring to herself as if she was weighing the pros and cons of telling the old molly. 

Finally, she shook her head. “My name doesn’t matter.” She murmured lowly, “No one speaks it anyhow and It’s not important as to why I’m here.” 

Yellowfang shivered harder, her eyes blinking. She could feel the tips of her ears going numb, as if they had been snipped off. “Why are you here?” She asked, avoiding the kits glazed eyes. 

Spirits were unpredictable but spirits of the young were dangerous when angry. She didn’t wish to provoke the kit in any way and end up on the bad side of a tantrum. She shuddered at the thought alone. 

Tipping her head, the tiny molly shot her a small, unsure, smile, “To help you!” She stared nervously, “Go to Bluestar in Thunderclan, she’ll have Spottedleaf fix you.” 

Yellowfang blinked at her, her mind racing with weariness before she spoke. “Is this an order from Starclan?” She mewed, her tone high with confusion. 

Why would she be needed in Thunderclan? They had a medicine cat and she was far too old to be a warrior. Besides, Brokenstar would destroy the whole lot of them if he found her there! 

The kit looked away from her, “It’s an order from me.” She said, her pelt ruffling. 

Yellowfang couldn’t ignore the fact it had no stars in it, anymore. Who was this kit that was not of Starclan and why was she trying to order her around? 

Her earlier precaution slipped away in a wave of annoyance. Why couldn’t the kit just tell her why she really wanted her in Thunderclan? 

“And who are you?” She snorted, “a dead rogue kit?” 

The kits eyes darkened horridly and Yellowfang froze. A buzzing filled the air, reminding the old medicine cat of a bad storm before it struck. The tension that filled the air before the sky heaved with its rage. 

The kit stared at her with black, unfeeling, eyes and slowly frowned. “I don’t like that word.” She hissed, her voice growing hard despite its high-pitched quality. Around her, the buzzing grew worse. 

Yellowfang opened her mouth to quickly apologize for calling her a rogue and calm the storm before it struck but the kit interrupted her. “I was just trying to help.” She spat, her fur spiking up around the snow on her back. The kit began breathing hard as she clenched her eyes shut tight. She looked as if she was in terrible pain. 

Pawstep by pawstep, Yellowfang backed away. The energy around the kit grew worse and worse until she opened her eyes and growled, her words coated in resentment. 

”Just go to Thunderclan.” 

Around them, the stones of graves flew away, the forest warping and twisting as a terribly cold wind tore through the forest. Yellowfang ducked away, rushing through the rapidly darkening forest with terror in her heart.

The forest vanished beneath her paws and she fell into yawning void of darkness, screeching in fear. 

Jerking to awareness, Yellowfang leapt to her paws, her breath harsh and wheezing. She whipped her head around, looking for any sign of the kit thats face was already fading from her memory. 

She held tightly to it, fighting against her fading dream. For some reason, she felt the image of the little mite was just something she oughta remember. 

Ginger fur, cold snow, no teeth, and blueish green eyes. 

_’And she does not like the word rogue.’_ she thought with a shiver. Her breath was billowing out in front of her muzzle, something that shouldn’t have been happening for another moon or so. 

It had to be the kit. Yellowfang tentatively reached out with her power, feeling for the bone-aching chill that had followed her throughout Thunderclan territory. There was none. 

”I’m sorry, kit.” She murmured, hoping she’d heard her. She hadn’t meant to be so callous, honest, it was just her nature. 

The way the kit spoke and acted made her forget to check herself. She felt more that she was speaking with someone her own age rather than what the kit actually was. Cats her own age would take her snark in stride but kits? Well, they were softer and she often hurt their feelings.

Sighing, she stood and prepared to head towards Twolegplace. Perhaps she could find a loner to share a nest with or maybe a group of rogues would take her in. 

_”Just go to Thunderclan.”_ The kits sad, angry, words rang in her ears, growing louder and louder with every pawstep she took. Finally, she stopped and looked back towards the dappled forest with a hesitant pause. 

Maybe the kit really did need her there for something. She’d said Bluestar would...help her, hadn’t she? Or had it been Spottedleaf? 

Yellowfang wracked her mind, trying to grasp at the fading wisps of her dream. Already, the exact way the kits jaw had curved was blurred and had her ears really been so curled? Or were they pointed? 

”Ginger fur, covered in snow, no teeth, blueish green eyes, hates the word ‘rogue.’” she murmured, clinging to the things she knew to be true. 

Shaking her wide head, she hopped off that rabbit trail. It didn’t matter, she had the kits description, that was all she needed. 

Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought. It was the first time in days she’d thought past her despair. That poor kit. It couldn’t have been more than a moon old, much too young for death. However, one fact about it nagged at her mind. 

Yellowfang was not a dumb cat, contrary to what some cats believed. Now that she was thinking clearly, she was almost certain that kit was at one time, a clan cat. A Thunderclan kit, more specifically. 

She had known of the clans and she had known of Bluestar. It was possible that she was simply an old rogue haunting their territory but Yellowfang didn’t believe it. Her dream was fading, yes, but she still held tight to the first words the kit had spoken: 

_”Starclan has a bad habit of punishing the wrong cats.”_

The words had been hollow and defeated, filled to the brim with bitter sorrow. It was the cry of a crossed cat who had lost the battle against injustice. Yellowfang knew the sound well. 

Yet, the cry called Starclan by name. Again, something a dead rogue could have heard in passing by haunting a camp long enough but the intimacy in which she spat her words let Yellowfang know they had a personal slight hidden within them. 

The kit had been punished for someone elses crime. 

Yellowfang grimaced, with her being so young, she had no doubt as to what the punishment had been. 

Letting her eyes drift back open, she searched the foliage on the border, looking for a splash of ginger. The kit was nowhere to be seen though Yellowfang knew she was somewhere in the territory. 

She shuddered to think what kind of hatred must lurk within the kits still heart for her to refuse Starclan. Many kits died, far too many. From sickness, weakness, stillbirth, and many other things. Brokenstars face flashed in her mind 

....Some even died by a warriors claws. 

None, however, had ever been so angry with Starclan about their fates that they abandoned them. What could’ve happened to inspire such resentment? And how did a Thunderclan kit end up dying in such a strange way? 

It’d been seasons and seasons since the last clan kit had frozen to death but it had been in Windclan, where one could expect it. They slept in shallow dens, making kits easy prey for the cold. 

Thunderclan was well sheltered with tightly woven dens stuffed with moss. For a kit to freeze to death, she would’ve had to have been out of camp, away from the warmth of dens. Yellowfang knew that but it didn’t make any sense! 

What had happened to the kit? 

Try as she might, Yellowfang couldn’t shake the question from her mind as she walked on towards Twolegplace. She snorted, annoyed with herself. 

Why couldn’t she just let it go? Why was she so obsessed with this kit who’s figure and voice was already warped within her mind? It was a mystery, that was intriguing enough. Maybe that’s why she was so invested. 

There’s no way a moon old kit could’ve made it up the ravine that lead to Thunderclans camp so Yellowfang knew another cat had carried her up it. Had she been murdered? Stolen? Or had she just been unlucky during a camp move? 

Whatever had happened it made her angry enough to stay behind. She lingered with her clanmates, dripping with sorrow and bitterness that Yellowfang had only had a brief taste of. 

A wooden wall smacked against her head, bringing her back to the present with a jolt. Hissing, she raised a paw to her head, petting for a bump. 

Bunching her hunches, Yellowfang prepared to leap. She puffed in a breath and hunched down to gather her strength in a few short heartbeats. 

Looking at the towering wall, so final in its firmness, she blew out the breath. She couldn’t just leave. Not with that kit haunting Thunderclan. It would eat at her for the rest of her days. 

Turning back, she started towards the Thunderclan border. Maybe, if she could figure out what happened to the kit then she could figure out a way to lay her to rest. 

She couldn’t save the kit, no, it was already dead but she could find a way help her. A way to ease the rage and help her accept her fate. Maybe then, she’d leave Yellowfangs nightmares alone unlike so many kits before her. 

Perhaps, it would finally allow Yellowfang to somewhat forgive herself for what she’d done. She smiled bitterly, squashing that particular thought from her mind. It would be almost laughable, if it wasn’t so sad. As if helping a single kit could save her. 

One kit to make up for the dozen that she killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I get to write story where Yellowfang will be a prominent character from the get-go
> 
> I keep having to put off her scene in the judges choice🙄. So far the next time she appears is at the great journey. Ugh, kill me.
> 
> And she won’t get nearly enough attention in a small flame for like six more chapters.
> 
> So finally, I get to write Guilty Grandma! 
> 
> Some things are a lil mixed because I jumped povs. No, Firekit wasn’t mad about being called a rogue, she was mad she was called dead. Yellowfang just thinks she was mad about being called a rogue cause who wouldn’t be, right? 
> 
> Also I think it’s hilarious that I’m about to have them dancing around eachother for a few chapters about Firekits name. It’s sorta like rumplestiltskin but Yellowfang gets nothing out of it.
> 
> As usual: Any questions? Ask em! If it’s about why Yellowfang would decide to go to Thunderclan, here: 
> 
> So 👏: She is currently only going because she knows Firekit is there and she wants to figure out what happened to her and see if she can get her to Starclan(Only Gray can but yellow don’t know that. I promise guys, Fire is not going to Starclan in this fic, she never even sees it. When Gray says he can’t come back, he can’t come back!)
> 
> She has seen a kit that is not at peace, she is angry about her death even if she’s not aware she is. 
> 
> Yellowfang sees her as the personification of all the kits that died because she broke the code since this kit obviously died because someone broke the code.
> 
> She feels that if she can just lay this one kit to rest, give this one kit peace and happiness, then just maybe, Starclan will forgive her. Even if she never forgives herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Firekit dodged between fallen branches and leafy bushes, peering out from behind their cover as the elder stumbled towards camp. 

Dead. The she-cat had called her dead. A sick feeling twisted Firekits gut. She knew that, she knew what had happened all those moons ago but the molly didn’t need to spit it at her. 

She blinked back the mist clouding her eyes. She was just trying to help her and she’d been insulted in return. 

“Starclan-forsaken roots!” The elder hissed, wincing as her claws caught on a low arching oak root.

Firekit sent her an angry glare, soaring high to get away. The tree tops greeted her, slipping through her form quietly as she raced towards camp.

She calmed slightly once she was a bit away from the elder, her still heart slowly unclenching from it’s hurt. 

A squirrel passed through her belly, chittering loudly to its mate. Firekit smiled widely, following the little critter to it’s nest and peeking in. 

A coo escaped her as a few tiny squirrels raised their heads from their warm nest, chattering at their mother happily. They climbed over her wildly, demanding attention. 

Unbeknownst to them, they had all of Firekits. She rolled onto her back, paddling her paws as their cuteness overwhelmed her emotional limit. _‘It’s just so adorable!’_ She squealed in her thoughts. 

She knew she could speak aloud and they’d be none the wiser but she would rather not. It felt as if hearing her voice would ruin the moment. 

Sadly, her voice wasn’t the only one around 

”So what will we tell the clan?” Tigerclaws deep rumble sent the fur on Firekits tail spiking. The squirrels squealed loudly at it, tucking deep into the scraps of nest in their burrow. 

Hissing angrily, Firekit whipped her head around before realizing she was much too high to see him like that. Looking down, she caught a glimpse of his shadow, arched across the forest floor, twisting and twirling with inky darkness. 

Floating to peer closer at him, she saw that Bluestars patrol was returning. They look haggard, their shoulders hunched and their tails dragging. 

All except Bluestar and Tigerclaw. They were alert, sharp eyed and muttering quietly between each other. 

Firekit edged away from the group, hissing as Tigerclaw drew too close. The harsh darkness of his shadows almost grazed her form, stinking of death and decay. It reached out for her, dancing as if they were black flames. 

The stench of it rose like smoke, wreathing around Firekit. She floated farther away from its longing grasp, to Bluestars side. “We’ll tell them what we suspect. We’ll need to be prepared for attack, after all.” The molly mewed, her voice stern with authority. It was clear she wasn’t going to reconsider. 

Firekit narrowed her eyes at Tigerclaw as the tom dipped his wide head, “Of course,” a gleam of annoyance showed in his eyes, “But don’t you think it’d be best to strike first? Shadowclan wouldn’t expect it.” 

Firekit tipped her head lightly in approval, it was a good idea but it may cost cats. That was a strange thing about Tigerclaw. He had the ability to act with the logic needed of a warrior but still picked fights like a miffed apprentice. 

Still, Ideas like that proved he had some potential. Hate him as she might, she couldn’t deny he’d be an okay leader. A bloody one but a okay one nonetheless. 

If he chose a level-headed deputy to even him out then she dare say he could even be a good one. She was worried that was all Bluestar saw however. She’d seen her mother watching him with consideration. A sinking feeling grew in her gut at the thought of Tigerclaw becoming deputy. 

She’d have to watch Lionheart closely to keep what harm she could from coming to him. Bluestar would either choose Whitestorm or Tigerclaw if the golden tom fell. Firekit couldn’t stand the idea of her mother choosing Tigerclaw to succeed her. 

It would be far too cruel a joke. 

It would mean she’d followed in the pawsteps of Sunstar. Looking only at a warriors strength and popularity instead of their actual leadership skills. The oblivious nature of it had cost Bluestar and Firekit everything. 

If Bluestar followed that path, Firekit wouldn’t stay to watch it unfold. Perhaps she’d go to Windclan or Twolegplace but she couldn’t bear to watch the next rightful leader lose everything because of the same short-sightedness that afflicted Sunstar. 

Though, she mused as she floated above the small group, she needn’t think such thoughts when they weren’t likely needed. 

The hissing darkness around Tigerclaw ensured her faith in his downfall. With any luck, he’d follow in his mentors pawsteps and die before he rose to power. His thirst for it was just too much of a risk. She could see it in his eyes, they glistened with want when he gazed at the Highrock. 

He wanted power as bad as Firekit wanted life. 

Luckily, he’d yet to have any chance at it since Lionheart was named deputy. He’d be a fantastic leader, kind and fair, if a bit of a pushover. Firekit had faith in him though. A lot more faith than she had in any other clan member. 

“Yellowfang? What are you doing here?” Bluestars voice, oozing with confusion, caught Firekits drifting thoughts and pushed them back into the present moment.

Firekit hovered over her mothers shoulders, resting her head between her ears as she glared at the coughing elder. The scrawny thing was crouched low to the ground, her hind legs folded beneath her. 

The elder, Yellowfang apparently, shook violently. “Kit?” She murmured, looking around wildly for a splash of dull ginger. When nothing met her gaze, she sighed and faced Bluestar. 

The leader carefully smoothed her expression, a polite smile gracing her muzzle, “Do you need herbs? I’m sure Spottedleaf has plenty to spare for now but the first frost is coming.” 

Firekit breathed a sharp intake of breath, flickering lightly in shock. Herbs! Yellowfang, this dirty and snippy cat, was a healer?! 

Of course, the patrol was completely unaware of Firekits shock. ”I’m here because I was told to be.” Yellowfang mewed, her voice rasping, “I’m not here for herbs.” 

Willowpelts fur ruffled, “So Shadowclan is well?” Her strange eyes were calculating, dancing with suspicion. In fact, the whole patrol seemed to lean forward at the question, trying to confirm an answer to a question Firekit didn’t know. 

Yellowfangs eyes flickered, shining with bitter sorrow, “I wouldn’t know.” She hissed, “I was banished from Shadowclan.” 

Gasps erupted from the patrol behind Bluestar, even Tigerclaws ears twitched in interest but the leader didn’t show she was even slightly shocked. 

”Why were you banished? You’ve always been highly regarded, it would’ve had to be something..heinous.” She murmured, looking the elder over with a critical eye. 

Yellowfang bared her cracked and blackened teeth, “I was blamed for something I didn’t do.” She hissed, “That’s all you need to know.”

Bluestars eyes hardened, “You’re an exiled cat with an unknown crime asking to come to the heart of my camp full of my clanmates,” her lip curled, “You’ll tell me or leave.”

Firekit narrowed her eyes lightly, she didn’t quite agree with her mother. Yes, Yellowfang didn’t wish to to speak of her exile but who would? It must have been an awful feeling to be forced to leave everything you knew. 

She didn’t like to speak or think of leaf-bare either. It was too painful. Besides, what harm could this elderly, sick, and scrawny cat do? The warriors would have her pinned before she could lay claw on anyone. 

Plus, she’d been in Yellowfangs dream when the elder had broken down and suspected it had been Brokenstar that committed the crime she was exiled for. Why else would she wish him away? 

”Well?” Tigerclaw spat, his fur ruffling as he sneered at the molly. Firekit leaned over, whipping her tail through his muzzle to give him an icy sting for his disrespect. Yellowfang was his elder, after all. 

The old cat hissed some, “Nevermind then-!” She paused, shuddering violently then she sighed, “Fine, but not here. I’ll tell you at camp, everyone will need to here because I don’t enjoy the tale and refuse to tell it twice.” She growled low in her chest at their uncertain shuffles, “That brute can guard me if you’re so worried.” She jabbed a claw at Tigerclaw. 

Firekits ears perked up some. What a strange request, to go from not wanting to share to wanting to share with everyone.

She twisted in the air as the patrol began to reluctantly lead Yellowfang back to camp under Bluestars order.

The patrol was silent and tense, all staring at Yellowfang. Firekit edged away from them, feeling their suspicion curl up towards her as she left. It feel off them in waves, only dimmed by Graypaw. 

He was not suspicious, no, he was only curious. His keen eyes were locked on Yellowfang, glimmering with interest. He seemed more prideful than curious though but, then again, it was his first time escorting a prisoner. He trotted alongside her proudly, his head held high. 

The patrol pushed into camp silently but Yellowfangs stench was not to be ignored. It wafted around, catching the nose of every cat from young to old. They winced, craning their necks to spot the source. 

Once the old cat was recognized, a steady hum of confusion and worry started up. Firekit tilted her head, wondering where the jeers were. Usually, a prisoner would be torn into for getting captured.

Yellowfang was a former medicine cat, maybe they were treated differently than normal prisoners? 

Spottedleafs dappled head appeared from the crowd, “Yellowfang?!” Her voice was high with confusion and concern, “What’s happened to you?” 

The gray elder didn’t respond, she was kept quiet by a glare from Tigerclaw. 

”She’ll tell us all.” Bluestar leapt atop the highrock with a flick of her tail. Turning, the leader stared down the elder, silently motioning her to spin her tale from beneath the ledge. 

Yellowfang did not protest. She walked proudly despite her frail and sickly nature. Firekit tilted her head in admiration, as did many of the warriors. It took a fighting spirit to keep strong in the face of illness. 

Her bones creaked as she settled down on the dusty camp ground, her matted fur shuffling in the dirt. “I’ve been exiled from Shadowclan” She announced firmly, her chin tilted up. 

A gasp erupted from the crowd, every cats eyes stretched wide. All except for the patrols. “Exiled?” Brindleface’s voice rose up, tinted with horror, “Why in Starclans name would they exile their most experienced medicine cat?” 

Yellowfangs head tipped down lightly, “Because,” she breathed a deep breath, drawing in her strength, “They believed I killed two kits.” 

She did not flinch nor cower in the wave of accusations and questions thrown her way. “What?! Bluestar, how could you bring her here?!” Frostfur yowled, inching towards the nursery. 

”Quick, guard the nursery!” Lionhearts voice boomed over the muttering clan, driving Darkstripe and Longtail into action. They darted towards the bramble den, crouching low at its entrance and baring their fangs towards the lone molly. 

Bluestars voice was stern and demanding, “Quiet!” She screeched, “Yellowfang has said she did not commit the crime in which she was exiled for. I’ve brought her here to speak her piece and see if Shadowclan is a bigger threat than I originally thought.” 

She flicked her tail for Yellowfang to continue as the clan settled with distrustful glances. The molly took a deep breath, closing her eyes as if terrible pain. 

”The kits were my kin.” She started, her voice cracking, “Mintkit and Marigoldkit, my brother and sister. They were killed by a fox.”

Firekit winced, pity lining her pelt. She shuddered lightly at the thought of the kits final moments. Hopefully, Graywing had comforted them on their way to the stars. 

Yellowfang swallowed hard,“I don’t know how they got out of camp. I was awakened and helped in the search for them. I found them first but it was already too late.” Her voice faltered, “They were still warm, if only I had been a few moments earlier.” 

Her head hung low, grief obvious to see in her hunched form. Firekit felt a sadness grip her, how terrible it must have been to come across such a grisly scene. 

She sniffled and continued on “I’d challenged Brokenstar on many his decisions. To him, I was a threat that needed to be gotten rid of. My scent was all over the kits, I was trying to save them...” her voice trailed off, “He used their death as a way to get rid of me, so no one with power in the clans opinions would oppose him again.”

The clan was silent for a long while, many sending a quick prayer to the stars for the pair of unfortunate kits. 

”What of your apprentice? Runningnose, was it?” Bluestar pressed finally, her pelt prickling lightly. Seeing it made Firekit shift uneasily. It wasn’t like her mother to be nervous. 

Yellowfang blew out a breath, “A fine medicine cat, but a coward. He won’t undermine his leader, even if he’s letting innocent cats die.” 

”How do we know you’re not lying?” Darkstripe spat hatefully, his yellow eyes gleaming with distrust. 

A murmur of agreement met his words but Yellowfang simply bowed her head, “I’ve no reason too.” She mewed, “I came here of my own will, to share with you in hopes I could ask for care but I’m no fool. A liar would be turned away, too easily spotted. Besides, you’ve all seen Brokenstars cruelty. Have you truly not wondered what happened to poor Windclan?” 

“Yes, when we went to their territory today, every tree was sprayed. You’re saying Shadowclan drove an entire clan from their home?” Bluestars voice was heavy with disgust and mourning. It was obvious she didn’t approve of the action. 

”If they’re gone, then yes. Raggedstar, Brokenstars father, was killed by a Windclan patrol.” She sighed heavily, a deep grief coating the words, “Since then, He’s been trying to destroy their clan. From the youngest kit to the oldest elder.“ 

She seemed exhausted as she explained, “I’m not surprised they had to flee but I grieve it. No clan deserves exile.“ The gray healer dipped her head, “Starclan grant the fallen Windclanners peace.” 

”And your own fallen clanmates?” Tigerclaw glared heatedly. 

”The elite warriors, the ones you see at the gatherings and the one to attack, deserve none.” A bitter fire burned in Yellowfangs eyes, “Bullies, the whole lot of them.” 

Firekit floated away from the clan slightly, coming to rest beside her mothers head. The clan was muttering, trying to make sense of the threat. Their fear tasted bitter on Firekits tongue as it festered around the crowd, growing stronger with every word uttered. 

”Thank you for the warning, Yellowfang.” Bluestas voice cut through the fearful mutters swirling in the air, “I’ve yet to understand why you came here, though? Surely you’re not wandering every other clans territory to warn them.” 

Firekit floated through her clanmates until she sat in front of the sagging elder. Yellowfangs eyes drooped as she shivered. Her fangs cracked together with the force of her shudders. 

”I..” she started then stopped, shaking violently, “I’m only speaking of this because the spirit was not of Starclan.” Her voice was sour, like Cinderkits when she was forced to share something she’d rather play with herself. 

“I was going to Twolegplace, originally, by cutting through your territory. I had hoped that perhaps a group of loners would take me in.” She rose her chin defiantly at the snickers that sounded. 

Once they died away, she continued, “However, as I moved past the Owl tree, I became so very cold. I thought I had picked up a chill but it was...different. I wasn’t clammy, no, it was like,” she struggled for a moment, “It was like I was standing in a blizzard.”

Spottedleaf tilted her head, “You think that was an omen to stay?” She asked, her voice dripping confusion. 

Yellowfang shook her head, her long fur shifting, “No, not at all.” She muttered, amused, “What happened next was far less subtle.” 

She chuckled lightly but Firekit was not amused, “Don’t..” she whispered angrily, glaring down at Yellowfang. Bluestar flickered in the corner of her eye, steeling her conviction. 

”I went to sleep, to try and get rid of whatever sickness I had picked up.” She shuddered wildly, looking around for the kit. 

A creeping sadness welled in her mind, skittering along the edges of it as if something that caused her grief had happened but she was not yet aware of it. Her belly split open with hollow dread, nearly making her sway. What was the kit doing? 

Why wouldn’t it want her to speak? Did her murderer stand among the crowd?

Tentatively, she pressed on, “A kit greeted me in my dreams.” A painful pang of frosty coldness stabbed her chest and she noticed every cat in the clearing start to hunch some, their eyes misting with emotion. 

How curious. They didn’t even seem aware of the despair hanging over them, as if they were unaffected by it’s presence. Or, perhaps, they were too used to it. 

Spottedleaf shook her head lightly, her eyes glazed, “A kit?” She muttered, “Not a leader or past medicine cat?” 

Firekit hissed, her sides heaving as Yellowfang shook her head, “No, it was not of Starclan, I said. She told me to come, though I cannot recall why.” She seemed frustrated by it, her face twisting as she grabbled with her memory, trying to drag up any details she’d forgotten. 

Spottedleafs face turned skeptical in an instant, “Not of Starclan? Then why did you listen?” Her voice was not condescending rather, it was curiously confused. If Firekit listened enough, she though she could hear pity in the tone. 

”I listened because that kit was from the clans, she had to have been from this one.” Yellowfang hissed defensively, “She knew Bluestar and she knew you, she called Starclan by name and she told me to come here!” 

Firekit breathed a sigh of relief. The elder was making herself look mad, no one would take her seriously like that. 

No one, that is, except for a kit. 

Brakenkit stepped out from behind his mother, having gone unnoticed in the scramble to guard the nursery due to his quiet nature. “Was it Scarykit?” His wide yellow eyes gleamed curiously. 

Frostfur leapt from her spot, wrapping her son up in her paws, “What are you doing out here?!” She fussed, “To the nursery, now! This is an matter of the clan, it’s no place for your stories.” 

”Hush.” Yellowfangs hiss cut through her words. With a flick of her tail, she beckoned Brackenkit forward, leaning down to meet his eyes. 

”Who is Scarykit?” She prodded, her orange eyes softening at his shy look. 

Firekit flew behind her, going through the mollys head to growl at Brackenkit threateningly, “Say nothing. Say I’m a story you made up!” She insisted. 

He did not heed her warning. “She-!” He started then stopped, staring at Firekit as she opened her mouth and _howled_. 

It was nothing more than the loud, piercing wail of a hungry kit but it was startling nonetheless and it got his attention. He blinked up at her, his mouth gaping. 

”Go now or I’ll take you to Starclan!” She hissed at him, swooping down to glare deep into his eyes. 

He stared at her, trembling in terror. Firekit felt her heart soften as a stench wafted from the tom and he scurried away to the nursery, wailing, with his hind legs drenched. 

”I’m sorry.” She whispered mournfully, already grieving the destroyed ‘friendship’. Truly, she would miss his calm presence. The days they’d sat together, simply keeping each other company would always be dear memories but she felt only the slight prickle of guilt at scaring him. 

He’d forget this whole event within two moons. 

”Kit?” Yellowfang called after him, her fur puffed up lightly. Under her breath, Firekit could make out the question she assumed was meant for her, “What did you do to him?” 

Turning, she flew to be back at Bluestars head. The molly was staring down at the bewildered medicine cat, her eyes clouded and lost. She looked on the verge of heartbreak. 

”Scarykit is a tale the kits made up many, many, moons ago.” She croaked, catching Yellowfangs attention, “It’s fake, nothing more than the tale of a kit scared by a robin.” 

”Are you sure?” Yellowfang pressed, “Perhaps it’s the same spirit. When was the last time Thunderclan lost a kit to the cold?” 

Firekit hung her head as Bluestar stiffened. Her fur lifted from her shoulders to the tip of her tail. “Not in recent memory.” She hissed. Clearly, she was hinting for the elder to shut her mouth. 

”Well, the kit was pretty faded and she spoke like a warrior,” Yellowfang mewed, “I think she might’ve been an old spirit of a kit. Dappletail, when did-!” 

”Enough!” Bluestar snapped, her eyes blazing with cold fire, “You were told to come here and here you are. That’s all we need to know. You’ve given us a valuable head on our enemy and we thank you for it. Now, get whatever herbs you need from Spottedleaf and make yourself a nest. I’ll discuss whether you’ll be allowed to stay with my senior warriors.”

She whipped around without another word, flicking her tail to summon Whitestorm, Tigerclaw, Willowpelt, and Lionheart to her den. Firekit stood in her spot, her mood growing as sour as her mothers. 

That blasted she-cat. She was only meant to come ask for help, not stir up her mothers old feelings! 

Yellowfang stared up at the abandoned highrock, her mind spinning. What on earth was that about? She’d just been trying to help the kit, why was everyone so...touchy? 

Yes, losing kits was a sad thing that danced in cats minds bitterly seasons after the fact but every clan dealt with it and quite often in the wild. It wasn’t uncommon to lose two out of a litter of three by the time they were warriors. 

So why were so many cats glaring at her as they passed? They were acting like she’d intentionally done something wrong! 

Yellowfang lowered her ears as she noticed a common theme in the cats shooting her looks. They were all older. A few gray whiskers or the creak of a bone gave it away. 

Hhpm. So it wasn’t just losing kits then. There was a story they weren’t telling her, luckily, she knew the one cat in Thunderclan who would. 

”Spottedleaf!” She called, trudging towards what she knew to be the medicine den, “Have some marigold ready, would you? I’ve got a few scratches from those troublesome roots plaguing your territory.” 

The dappled tortoiseshell was already pulling herbs out when she walked into the cool den. She laid them out with a delicate paw, avoiding Yellowfangs searing gaze. 

Yellowfang grunted as she snatched the leaves up, squeezing their juice into the light tears lining her flesh. They stung but it was nothing she wasn’t used too. 

While she worked, she spoke to Spottedleaf, prying for the answers to her questions. “So, everyone seems a bit sore about that kit.” She muttered

She caught the slight shift in Spottedleafs stance as the medicine cats shoulders stiffened. “Well, lost kits are a sore subject.” The words were careful and guarded. 

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes, “I came here and spoke the truth, youngin, I expect it in return. I asked when the last kit died from cold, no one answered me.” 

Spottedleaf swayed her tail, her amber gaze flickering around uncertainty before she sighed heavily, “I’ll tell you what I know but afterwards, you aren’t to speak of it again. Thunderclan doesn’t like to upset it’s queens.” 

A cool wind whipped through the den, chilling both she-cats. Yellowfang shuddered, hunching in on herself lightly as her power picked up the kits presence close by. 

Starclan, what an awful way to die. She’d always thought a wound or infection would be but anything was better than this bone-numbing ache of ice. 

Strangely, Spottedleaf seemed unaffected by the wind, “It’s always drafty in camp.” She offered lightly, watching Yellowfang shudder curiously. 

”I’m aware.” Yellowfang snipped quietly, “Now, when did you last lose a kit to the cold?” 

Spottedleaf shifted, “Last leaf-bare. Her name was Chestnutkit. She was a brown four moon old kit and died of fading,” Her eyes clouded with misty emotion, “She’d had greencough as a young kit and didn’t have the strength to recover. She went to take a nap one day and never woke up.” 

Taking a moment to think a prayer for the poor scrap, Yellowfang shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not my kit.” She rested her tail on the younger mollys shoulder, “The one I spotted was a about moon old and she died of the cold, not of sickness or starvation. When did a kit last freeze?” 

The cold feeling in her chest solidified. It felt as if a block of ice was there, sending slush through her veins. Gritting her teeth, Yellowfang closed off her power as much as she could. It put a dent in the chill but it hung around her form, just waiting for her to slip in her hold so it could rush in and freeze her again. 

She didn’t know why the kit didn’t want to be known but Starclan help her, she’d find out! 

Spottedleaf snapped her attention back, “I know I said to not speak of this conversation but if I tell you this story, you must keep it to yourself at all costs.” Her eyes hardened, “The elders forbade mention of it.” 

Anticipation bloomed warm in Yellowfangs chest, driving the remaining cold away “I promise!” She insisted, her claws working the ground of the den. 

Spottedleaf still seemed very uncertain. She grabbed a bundle of herbs, sorting and resorting them as she spoke. 

”The last time we lost a kit to snow was many, many moons ago.” She seemed to choke a bit, “It was the first litter I delivered, four of them, though I cannot even recall their names.” 

She paused, her head hanging in shame, “It’s just been so long.” She coughed and moved on, “When the kits were a moon old, a fox clawed a hole in the nursery and stole them.” 

A sharp intake of breath was Yellowfangs only reaction. She paused with that breath, letting it settle deep in her chest for a calming moment. Starclan forsaken foxes! 

“We never found hide or hair of those four.” Yellowfang could hear the long buried sorrow in Spottedleafs voice, “We eventually called off the search. A blizzard had passed the night they were stolen, if they got away from the fox, they froze.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, both reflecting on the story, “Do you remember what they looked like?” Yellowfang murmured cautiously. 

A spark of fondness lit in Spottedleafs eyes, “Yeah, there were two little gray kits and a gray and white one.” She smiled, “Then there was a ginger one, she was a bit of a shock to see among her siblings.”

“The ginger one got away.” Yellowfang mewed somberly, “A scrawny thing she was, covered in snow.” 

Spottedleafs shoulders hunched, “Some of us who remember them suspected she may visit often, considering the tale of Scarykit is always the same. A ginger she-kit covered in snow, hovering near Bluestar.” She sighed, “But it does us better to believe she stays in Starclan, where it’s warm and where foxes don’t roam.” 

”Bluestar? Why would she always be near her?” Spottedleaf dodged the question as fast as it’d been spoken, grabbing her bundle and shoving it in the store. 

Yellowfang had a cold feeling in her belly, a sense of dread began building there. Deep down, she knew. She remembered when young Bluefur had come to the gathering with a plump belly, smelling of sweet milk. 

She also remembered how, two moons later, she had returned as deputy, the milk scent fading and her face devoid of any happiness. The idea was too much to bear. If that little kit had stayed for her mother... 

Were her kits here now, unseen and forgotten? 

”Were the kits Bluestars?” The question was blunt, she already knew the answer. 

Spottedleaf didn’t face her, “Yes, that is why we don’t speak of them. Especially of Scarykit. Bluestar still grieves that kit. She was devastated by all their deaths, of course, but hers hit Bluestar the hardest. She still dreams of her sometimes, freezing, alone and scared in the blizzard.” 

Pity sharpened to suspicion in Yellowfangs quick mind, “Just her and only freezing, never a fox?” A mother should hope for a quick death if one had to come. Why would Bluestar dream of only a sad, cold, death? 

”No, not that she’s told me. Frostfur says it’s probably the one she fears most.” Spottedleaf shook her head, “Imagine one of your kits escaping certain death only to stumble into a blizzard and die slower?” Her eyes glinted with horror.

To any other cat, that would’ve made sense and answered their questions. However, Yellowfang was not a normal cat. She was well versed in picking up subtle things that might escape another cats attention. Like how a fox couldn’t possibly carry four kits. 

Or Like Bluestar only truly mourning _one_ kit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rut row, Yellowfang is snooping about, she gonna figure you out bluegirl!
> 
> Sorry, I know this chapter isn’t as good as they usually are. I’ve just lost some of my motivation so it makes writing more of a chore than something I enjoy. 
> 
> Chapters end up messy, I’m sorry for that, I went back and cleaned it up as best I could. Hopefully, I’ll feel better by the time I circle back to this story. I update my stories in a circle.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve fixed a few things about the books that always bothered me, like how Yellowfang was treated as a prisoner rather than a medicine cat before the clan knew of her exile.
> 
> I’ve also fixed the “No one tells anyone anything” problem that I’ve always hated. To me, it’s always been a sloppy thing used to bump word counts and create problems for mains to solve that could’ve been easily avoided, that is if it’s used improperly. 
> 
> Ex. If a character is naturally secretive, like Bluestar, they wouldn’t just go around telling everything so that trope does work with a character like her.
> 
> However, Yellowfang told everything to Fireheart and had shown herself to be very logical so it never made sense to me why she’d put her new clan in danger by hiding what Brokenstar had been doing.
> 
> Even if it was, on some level, to protect her kit, I still think she would’ve been honest about her reason for exile so they wouldn’t, y’know, immediately assume she was a kit-killer bc of Brokenstar.
> 
> Communication, people, use it.
> 
> Yellowfang was blunt and honest and now Thunderclan knows a little about what they’re up against. They’ll also know not to trust any word from Brokenstar, which is gonna come in handy.


	8. What strange dreams

Firekit hissed at Spottedleaf, betrayal burning deep in her cold chest. The molly had no right to be gossiping about Bluestars business, especially not to a stranger!

Yellowfang had turned away from the medicine cat, her orange eyes alit with curiosity. She shuddered some and gazed around the den quickly.

Firekit narrowed her eyes at the elder and drew closer. With a quick motion, she thrust her paw through her chest and into her heart.

 _”Mrrrr-ow!”_ Yellowfang howled, falling to the den floor. Spottedleaf jerked around at the sound, her mouth dropping open in a gasp as she saw the cat sprawled across her floor.

“Yellowfang?!” She squawked, darting to her side and running a paw over her to check for injuries, “What’s happened? Where does it hurt?”

Yellowfangs face was twisted into a grimace but Firekit held no pity in her heart. Serves her right for sticking her stub nose where it didn’t belong!

“My chest.” The elder wheezed with a pained tinge, “Stars, it’s so cold!” The elder shivered violently, her yellow teeth clacking together with every shudder.

Firekit looked her over quickly, just to be sure. She was nothing more than the faded spirit of a one moon old kit, to her knowledge, she could do no true harm without a tantrum. She reckoned one Starclan cat had more power in their little claw than she did in her whole body.

Sure enough, she could already see the chill was starting to pass. Yellowfangs shudders were growing less and less frequent while her face slowly unpinched from it’s tight grimace.

Her liquid orange eyes peeled open and she glared around the den, no doubt looking for her. Firekit stuck her tongue out at her, taking enjoyment in her ability to remain unseen for once.

With a sinking feeling nagging at her, Firekit left the den. She glided over the camp floor, trying to ignore all the whispers traveling over it. 

The camp was positively buzzing with this new development, their eyes were wide and worried but they jabbered back and forth with the excitement of apprentices. 

Honestly, It was no wonder Starclan had come into existence. Not one of these gossiping cats would last a day walking in her pawsteps. They’d fade of bordem before the sun sank.

Their whispers were like claws against stone in her ears, piercing through the calm acceptance she’d had for many moons. 

She’d listened to them chatter for many, many, seasons but hearing them mutter about her actions and to briefly hear her name murmured softly from the muzzles of older clanmates was disturbing. She hadn’t been mentioned in the clan since before Goosefeathers death. 

She floated closer to Halftail as he shared tongues with Runningwind. “I reckon she did see old Scarykit.” The grizzled elder murmured, eyeing the area around him wearily, “If that kit stalks the camp, there’s no reason she wouldn’t be out in the forest.” 

“I thought you said he was fake!” Runningwind glared at his father, “I told you about him for moons but you said it was only my imagination.” 

“She.” Halftail corrected, “And she is better believed to be fake, even if she’s not.” Firekit nodded along with him. It was best that she be forgotten, left behind with her bitter leafbare. In the foggiest part of a cats mind, she could bring them no pain. 

Runningwind looked at his paws for a long moment, “Do you think it’s Flamekit?” He whispered, eyeing Bluestars den. 

Halftail snorted at him, “Who in Starclan’s name is Flamekit?” He asked, “There hasn’t been a Thunderclan kit named that since before my birth!” 

“Y’know,” Runningwinds whispered voice dragged her attention back to him. He was waving his paw about, his face a bit frustrated, “Bluestars little ginger one.” 

Halftails grizzled face sombered up immediately. His paws twitched and he curled them close, feeling the phantom sting of the snow he and so many clanmates had trudged through for days, hoping for any hint of the precious four they’d lost.

“Firekit.” He murmured, a fond glint sparking in his eyes, “That one was named Firekit. Bluestar always said it was for her pelt but she was a fierce one too.” 

He snorted, shaking his shaggy head, “Once, you and Mousekit were slinging snow at one and other and accidently hit little Mosskit.” 

He closed his eyes, a small grin on his face, “She ran into the nursery and refused to come out to play again. Oh, Firekit was so mad!” He chortled, unaware of the little spirit at his side who curled in on herself at the name. 

“She grabbed a pawful of snow during your nap and threw it all over you two!” Halftail laughed, his shoulders shaking, “You both woke up screeching.” 

Runningwind seemed to think for a moment before he gave up and simply laughed along with his father. 

Firekit brushed close to them as she moved on through camp, happy that her memory had brought joy for once. A throb worked across her body at the toms chuckles dying off and she looked down, seeing her form become slightly more sturdy. 

The grass showing through her paws was stained just a hint more ginger than it had been before Halftails story.

She smiled a little but it was strained. Firekit had long ago accepted that she would fade but it was a scary thought that she avoided actively thinking about for many seasons. The more she ignored it though, the more aware she became of her slowly disolving form. 

It was coming soon. 

She knew it was. Yellowfangs story would pass and life for the clan would move on. In a few seasons, all who knew her would meet their own ends and then. 

She didn’t know. Would her form become nothing more than wisps of ginger mist? Would she return to life and live what she never got to experience? Or would she simply stop thinking? 

Maybe She’d gain another chance to visit Starclan and say goodbye to those she rejected. 

Maybe she’d get to play one last game of mossball. 

Perhaps nothing at all would happen and she’d simply cease to be, remembered by none. It was a daunting thought, one left best in the depths of her mind but soon, she’d have no choice but to face it. 

Her final day was fast approaching.

Fear, sharp and jagged, touched her tongue but it was not her own. Ravenpaw skittered along the edges of camp, his black pelt blending in with the shadows finely. 

Clever green eyes, groggy with a poor nights rest, swept over the camp and the cats within it. Soft whispers slipped from the shadows around him, curling to move into his ears and feed the adders that lived deep within his deteriorated mind. 

Firekit swooped farther back as the whispers suddenly became shrieks. She could not make what they said for it was meant for Ravenpaws ears alone but she could hear the high pitched, keening, ring that it let out as his leaf green eyes froze. 

Firekit followed them, puzzled at his reaction to the senior warriors pushing out of Bluestars den. The leader and Tigerclaw were at the head, deep in discussion. 

Whatever her mother was saying, Tigerclaw seemed to disagree heavily. The darkness stuck deep within his skin hissed and heaved, reaching out towards the oblivious molly even as Tigerclaws face remained impassive, if mildly annoyed. 

Lionheart strided to be at Bluestars other side and she turned to talk with him, dismissing Tigerclaw. The darkness on his pelt seethed, dripping to the camp floor with outraged screams as the tabby turned and stomped away. 

Firekit hissed at him, sinking into the camp wall to rest beside Ravenpaw. “Blasted tom.” She murmured to him, “Somethings not quite right with that one.” 

Ravenpaw didn’t react but she didn’t expect him too. He slipped through her form quickly and rushed to his den, disappearing into the shadows within. 

Firekit eyed him curiously, making a point to glance at the sun. It was sinking, yes, but she saw only older cats beginning to retire. Usually someone of Ravenpaws age would wish to stay up and gossip, especially with the day’s events.

She remained in the camp wall for a long time, ignoring the jabber going on. She noticed however, how her form got a few shades brighter as Frostfur and Speckletail shared whispered stories about her litter, only beiefly mentioning her by name with swapped glances towards Bluestar. 

Bluestar sat calmly at the foot of the Highrock, leaning her head down every few moments to take a bite from her finch. Then she would raise her head high, letting her wisdom lit eyes sweep over her clanmates. 

To them, she looked noble and in control. Like she could walk through a roaring storm and turn up at the other side with not a strand of fur out of place. 

Firekit was not fooled. 

Her mothers eyes were sweeping, yes, but there was a nervous twitch to them when they traveled over the medicine den. Firekit knew she was scared, scared that Yellowfang had seen her. 

She let out a long-suffering sigh, knowing tonight would be a swarm of nightmares for the leader. Any reminder of what she’d done to Firekit always seemed to spring them into existence.

In her mind, she knew it was because she feared facing her. Bluestar thought she was angry with her for dragging her into the snow all those moons ago. 

She wouldn’t lie, should she be lucky enough to gain a few moments with her mother before Graywing came, she had been furious for many moons. 

Never enough to leave but enough to wail. 

Forgiveness often finds those with nowhere to hide however, and it had sought her out after Goosefeathers death. 

With none to speak to, she’d lost the biased rage in her mind and finally come to accept her terrible night as a necessary sacrifice. 

How long would she have gotten had Thistleclaw become leader, anyway? Six, maybe seven, more moons before she fell in a border fight under his orders? 

Then how many after her would fall? Mistyfoot? Runningwind? It could’ve been much worse. She just wished it had been someone else to pay. 

After all, she sat among a future she’d lost everything to create, completely unable to join it. The clanmates that lived because she didn’t couldn’t talk or laugh with her, the borders that remained unmarked in blood were not hers to patrol. 

Even the dens were not hers to sleep in.

“There’s no sense in dwelling.” She muttered to herself, repeating one of Goosefeathers favorite phrases. She could ponder what could’ve been for the entirety of her existence but the simple fact was it was already done. 

Bluestar swept past her hideout, tossing her finch remains into the dirt place. Normally, the leader would have much more respect for the creature but she was on edge, disurbed by the story Yellowfang had spun.

Firekit knew she should follow her as she vanished into her den. Nightmares were sure to haunt her mother tonight but she couldn’t bring herself to step into another blizzard.

Silently, she rested her head on her paws and gazed through the expanse of thorns incasing her. The clan slowly broke apart and retired, their steps sluggish and their eyes heavy. 

Sparing a glance towards the nursery, Firekit thought briefly about following Cinderkit or Brightkit into their dreams but her heart wasn’t in it. 

Letting out a restless sigh, she contemplated on what to do with herself. She was impossibly bored but frolicking in another’s dreams seemed so tiring after her long day. 

Looking up towards the sky, Firekit released her grip on herself and began to float upwards. 

The camp wall fazed through her form seamlessly and she gazed down at the sleeping camp. It was serene in it’s quietness, the gossip of the day having finally been put to rest. 

She didn’t stop quite yet. Flipping in slow circles she allowed herself to continue upwards, letting the wide branches of oaks cut through her form until she rose above them. 

The forest always looked different from here, so small and covered, letting the cats within roam like hidden treasures that she could only find if she dipped within it’s shaded underbelly. 

The ravine cut through the forest like a jagged wound, almost out of place with it steep dip. Firekit still enjoyed seeing it from here however. 

The dens lining it were almost unrecognizable. If she hadn’t memorized where they lay, she might’ve had a hard time placing them. 

Rolling onto her back, she turned away from her clan and to the stars. Her eyes were heavy with tiredness and she felt she could fall asleep if she leg them slip closed. 

It wasn’t real, she knew she’d only put herself into darkness if she did. Aware of all around her while tossing and turning for a rest that always skittered just outside her paws.

The stars twinkled above her, spread out over the endless expanse of silverpelt. They dipped and swirled among the soft glow of the moons, like kits chasing each other. 

She knew they weren’t really moving, that it was simply her eyes tricking her, but she liked to think they were. 

The elders always said Silverpelt let Starclan kits play in his pelt. Maybe that was what she was seeing. 

She hoped they were having fun. 

Rolling back around, Firekit scrunched up her eyes and finally made a decision on what to do with her night. 

Today had been bad. It had been bad from the moment Yellowfang had started poking around and jabbering about her.

Silent as the night around her, Firekit drifted back down to the earth until she stood in the center of camp. 

From there, she slipped past a few dens, aiming for the medicine den where she knew the clans newest member was resting. 

A squeal from the apprentices den made her pause and she glanced over, seeing the shadows within become distorted. 

Then she blinked and realized it was simply Ravenpaw, tossing in a fit. His black pelt made him one with the night but the stark white patch on his chest let her recognize him. 

With a sigh, she silently promised to make his dreams better tonight. Only after she spoke with a certain pesky molly though.

Dipping into the medicine den, Firekit peered around the dark depths of the cave until she made out the old medicine cats form, hunched on a nest in the far corner of the den. 

She shivered as Firekit flowed closer, bringing her bone chilling winds to her living form. 

Leaning down, Firekit rested her nose against the mollys head and took a deep breath. The winding began around her head and she urged it on faster. 

When it finally snapped, she found herself in a dank marsh. Looking around, she rose a paw to her nose at the stench in the clearing. 

Mewling sounded from behind her and she turned, coming face to face with a huge stump. Creeping around it’s edge, she peeked in and gaped at what she saw. 

Yellowfang lay in a nest of dead grass and moss, tiredly scrapping a bundle of herbs towards her mouth. Three kits lay at her belly. Two pounded away at her teats, trying to drive milk into their mouths. 

The last one, a tiny brown tabby tom, lay still and silent on the ground. He did not mewl or squirm. 

Yellowfang seemed to hardly spare him a glance, only focusing on her two other kits. A tiny ginger she-kit with white paws and a smoke gray she-kit. 

Pure love was in the mollys eyes whenever they looked at them. 

Firekit padded into the den, sitting herself next to the dead tom-kit. “What strange dreams you have.” She muttered, looking the tom over sadly though not too sadly. 

He wouldn’t miss what he never had.

Jerking, Yellowfang whipped her head around to face her. Her kits cried out at being dislodged, paddling her side roughly as they tried to find their place again. 

Yellowfang stared at her, confused, for a moment before her face cleared. Looking back down at the two she-kits, she petted them gently, her paw kind and wistful. 

“Of course.” She murmured sadly, “Of course it’d be a dream.” 

Firekit stretched out on the den floor, looking them over curiously, “So this is how you broke the code?” She asked, remembering that molly had mentioned herself deserving punishment. 

“If only.” Yellowfang sighed, “This is my deepest wish, kit, but it is not how it happened.” The den around them shifted and suddenly, the tom kit lay alive and well at her paws. 

Glancing to her side, Firekit felt a pang in her chest. The two she-kits lay cold and silent, long dead. 

Yellowfang continued, looking down at her son as if he was little more than crowfood, “A mistake.” She spat, “None of them were ever meant to exist, let alone live.” 

Her fur swayed as she shoved the wailing kit to the side and turned her back on him, “He lived, tugging my heart with love, so he could destroy.” She hissed, “Brokenstar is my punishment but my clan suffers for it too.” 

Firekit looked away. She felt pity, of course, this poor old molly had no one she could share this pain with besides a long gone kit but at the same time, she held no impact from the story. 

She knew not the cats involved so no pain stuck her sharply, only a dull ache of sorrow, the sad ‘oh’ of hearing of a tragedy that had no effect on you.

The two were quiet for some time, listening to the tiny toms mewls. 

Finally, Firekit spoke, “I do not know why you seek stories of me but please,” she waited until Yellowfang locked eyes with her, “Stop. No good comes from digging up mistakes.” 

Yellowfang didn’t seem pleased, “You’re Bluestars kit, are you not?” She asked, “How could you be a mistake? A tragdey, yes, but not a mistake.” 

Firekit looked at her sharply, “You are stuffing your nose where it doesn’t belong.” She snapped lowly, “I’ve spent seasons in the shadows with my secrets, keeping them away from the clan. Do _not_ attempt to bring them to light now. There’s no point.” 

Critical orange eyes looked her over, “You’re angry.” It wasn’t a question, “I can help you, if you tell me what happened, we can get you justice.” 

She seemed so desperate, “Tell me how you froze.” She implored, “I know you couldn’t have left camp on your own and a fox couldn’t have carried you all. What happened? Who did it?” 

The tiny tom squealed as she stood and strided towards Firekit, who trembled with barely contained rage. 

”I can help you.” She repeated, “I’ll help you find peace. Just tell me. Bluestar will be more than happy to punish-!” 

“It was for her.” 

Yellowfang stared at her, her mouth frozen around half-formed words. “W-what?” She choked out, staggering back. 

Firekit shrugged, “It was no accident that I was out in the snow. I was never meant to...get too cold but,” she leveled the molly with a flat gaze, “Mistakes happen.” 

“But...but why?!” Yellowfang screeched, her voice warping. She seemed udderly distraught, as though Firekit had completely destroyed something dear to her. 

“That’s none of your concern. What’s done is done.” She swallowed hard, “I need no _justice_. They punish themself enough for both of us.” 

“They let you be killed though!” Yellowfang gasped, her gaze misting, “That’s not fair! Your clan was meant to protect you not leave you for dead.” 

Snow began to fall outside the den, “I don’t like that word.” Firekit was quiet, glaring at Yellowfang. 

“Stop interfering. Who led me from camp that night only did what needed to be done, they never meant for me to d-d-die,” she stuttered over the word, “Leave me be, I don’t want your help!”

Yellowfang backed away from her some, “Did she know?” She hissed, “Did she know you were being led to your death? What was in so much need that a kits life needed to be sacrificed?”

Firekit growled at her, “If I had gone on, the clans would’ve had borders marked with blood.” She hissed, “Endless battles, meanless deaths, and pointless traumas were avoided by letting me go.”

“And they’ll just be dug back up by bringing my memory into light.” She continued, flowing close to the mollys face, “Get your help, stay if you will but _stop_ bringing me up.”

Yellowfang seemed sorrowful, “Don’t you want peace? Justice?” She begged, “Why are you letting your killer walk among the clan? Why are you letting _Bluestar_?” 

She shook her head, her gaze locked on her own kits, “She was lucky.” She hissed, “She sent them to die when most of us would’ve killed for four lovely, strong, kits!” 

“In the dead of a harsh leaf-bare with a dim-witted battle hungry enemy striding towards a leadership that was rightfully hers.” Firekit snapped, “ _We_ were never meant to exist, Bluestar was always meant to be leader.” 

She pushed on as Yellowfang tried to speak, “I’ve made my peace among my clanmates,” she hissed, “Now leave me to it!”

“And if I don’t? If I make them pay?” She growled back at her. 

Firekit snapped, feeling the snow around her warp into the den, freezing the molly. It clung to her long fur, making her gasp as it bit into her skin. 

Locking eyes with her, Firekit spoke quietly, “Why would you?” She asked, “My mother is all I have in this existence. I love her.” 

“She let you be killed.” 

“You let them be born.” Firekit replied, nodding towards the mollys own kits, “Those two?” She pointed at the she-kits, “They’ll be gone the moment you die. A pitiful existence in the shadows, perhaps the stars, but a short one nonetheless.” 

Yellowfangs eyes widened as she continued, “How would you feel, if I sought their spirits out and killed them because I was angry?” She asked, “You love them but you’d be helpless to help them. Don’t make me watch you destroy my mother because you’re mad on my behalf.”

Yellowfang bowed her head, “You still love her, after what she’s done?” She asked, her gaze locked beyond Firekit, on her own kits. 

“Of course.” She replied instantly, “She-She did her best for the situation she was in.” 

Yellowfang looked away, her face drawn in exhaustion and bitterness, “You’re a rare one, then.” She concluded, “Most would seek revenge, especially when offered.” 

“I was angry.” Firekit admitted, “But what was the point? Destroying them wouldn’t bring me back.” 

The tension in Yellowfangs shoulders let out, as if she was relieved she’d been angry at _some_ point about what had happened. 

“Strange how different cats can be when ones old and the others young.” She muttered with a snort, “Here I am, old as a grizzled fox and still gnashing for a fight like an apprentice. Then there you are, barely a moon old and filled with that pesky thing some call morals.” 

Firekit stepped closer to her at the weak joke, her heart softening, “You and I more alike than you’d like to think.” She murmured, “I’ll be happy to visit, should you do as I’ve asked.” 

The elder scoffed tearfully, “What could we possibly have in common?” She spat, “Why, you never had the chance to gain anything to have in common with me.” 

Firekit turned away from her, watching the snow fall outside, “Perhaps,” she conceded, “Not in life but I’ve gained it here.” 

She tilted her head and looked at the she-kits, “You’ll never meet them.” She said solemnly, “They’ll fade away when you die if you’ve never told about them.” 

Yellowfang was stiff and her breath caught with every inhale. 

“I know.” 

“I’ll never talk with Bluestar again.” She continued, “Graywing will come for her and she won’t be able to see or speak with me. I was truly gone from her the moment I got too cold.”

The molly was silent beside her. Slowly, she came to sit close to Firekit. Looking her over, she turned and grabbed her quiet son, sitting with him tucked between her paws. 

Firekit let her. So long as the molly kept silent about her, she held no ill will towards her. She felt she could even appreciate the cat without her nosiness. 

Together, they watched the snow fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best.
> 
> Jeez I’m tired.
> 
> Yellowfang and Firekit prolly won’t talk for a good while more but there ya go, a cute moment between two of my fav characters.
> 
> Hope y’all liked it, as usual, have any questions? Ask em!


	9. Chapter 9

Firekit sighed lightly as she rested in the honeyed light of the sun that shone down on and through her faded form.

The shine of it was spotting through the leaves in the oak tree that she rested in, making them glow brightly above her.

She couldn’t actually feel the suns warmth, of course, but seeing the beauty of it was nice.

Today had been so dragging and she couldn’t find anything worth interest to do in camp. 

The cats within it were hidden away from the thick morning mist that plagued through the camp floor earlier that day, covering everything and causing them to stumble into each other.

A patrol of cats had still left earlier, taking no notice of the thick mist. It was made up of only apprentices and their mentors. 

An assessment was taking place, if she had to guess. She would’ve followed but like most things, it was best to not watch what you couldn’t try yourself.

However, with both choices, she still lost. After all, she’d chosen to stay in camp instead but now, she still had nothing at all to do and was still left to simply watch.

It was terrible.

The last few moons? Half-moons? She didn’t keep time well. The last bit of her existence had been full of activity, with Bluestar growing worried about war and Yellowfang appearing with her tale.

There was nothing of any concern today though. 

A change still lurked on the horizon but now, there seemed to be a lull in the process.

Letting her paws dangle over the edge of her branch, Firekit blew out an unnecessary breath.

“Were you ever this wound up, Goosefeather?” She asked the empty air, “I feel as if this boredom will drive me mad but I don’t want anything else to happen!”

It was true. The itch in her pelt was something she could deal with. In a few seasons, she would settle back into her monotonous routine of watching and waiting.

She could handle that but something new?

Firekit didn’t like change.

When everything had remained the same for seasons on end, the idea that something, something she was meant to stop, would happen without her being able to lift a paw was chilling.

“I can’t believe you caught that!” Graypaws excited voice floated up, piercing through the cloud of lazy thoughts that circled Firekits mind.

Stretching, the kit sat up and peered over her branch curiously.

She was far above the edge of the ravine, seated at the top of her favorite large oak tree. It’s roots twisted over the edge, providing a foundation for the nursery.

From her spot, she could just make the kits, tumbling about in front of the den her tree circled. 

They’d been playing all morning, their joyful shrieking dancing in Firekits ears, but now they’d gone still in awe.

Firekit followed their gaze, seeing the apprentices pushing their way back into camp, their mentors on their tails.

She was too far to see what exactly had the kits worked up so, with a sigh, she pushed off her branch and glided to the camp floor.

She landed beside Cinderkit and looked at her, wondering if the she-kit could even still see her like Brackenkit could.

Cinderkit glanced at her quickly without really realizing who she was seeing, “I can’t believe Ravenpaw caught an adder!” She squealed excitedly.

A tingle of worry shot up Firekits back. Rolling her eyes back to the apprentices prancing into camp, she saw the little black tom slinking behind his friend, Graypaw.

A long snake was clenched between his teeth, flopping loosely with every step. It’s dead, beady, eyes stared at Firekit and she shuddered, looking away.

Her eyes found Ravenpaws. She could see the green orbs were shifting around camp wildly.

He seemed even more jumpy than usual.

Firekit shrugged, he was probably just startled after having the adder get so close to him.

As the two apprentices moved past her, she smiled, tasting the contentment that flowed from Graypaw. 

Her basking was interrupted though, when she felt a sharp jab of fear from Ravenpaw. The voices that lurked around him like vultures were whispering in high shrieks.

The rose and fell like waves lapping against stone, their high-pitched sounds blending into the chatter of the clan.

They quieted some as Ravenpaw set the adder on the stump beside the apprenticed den. 

Stars, for one blessed moment, they fell quiet and all Firekit could feel from the tom was a warm glow of pride.

Then, without warning, Tigerclaw snatched the adder from the stump. He turned slowly, backing Ravenpaw up into a shadowed corner between the stump and apprentice den.

Firekit was too far to hear what he was saying but his body language told her all she needed to know. 

A prickle of fury in Ravenpaws defense shot up her spine, that was no way to treat any apprentice, let alone ones own!

She looked around the camp, furious that every cat within it seemed to absorbed with themselves to notice the twos one-sided exchange.

Tigerclaw growled a few vile words to Ravenpaw, the darkness on him writhing and hissing as the quiet insults were spat.

Once he seemed sure that Ravenpaws confidence was firmly shattered, the dark tabby stomped to the dirt-place where he carelessly tossed the adder corpse.

The voices around Ravenpaw shrieked with an ear-piercing wail at the action. Firekit winced, flowing over the camp ground to be in the medicine den.

She sat in its entrance, watching the cats of the clan move about with their day and trying to calm some from her righteous fury.

She wasn’t particularly fond of the medicine den but It was farthest away from Ravenpaw and gave her a moment's peace from the endless noise around him.

She never had one for long, though, seeing as Ravenpaw wasn’t the only cat in the clan with feelings.

“Spottedleaf?” A voice grunted from the back of the den, “We’re running low on Dock again. Best to fetch some before those troublesome kits get hurt again.”

Firekit looked behind her, seeing Yellowfang sorting a few bundles of herbs in the shadows of the den corner where the herb store laid.

The elderly molly had settled into the clan well, after the first few days. She’d become somewhat of a de-facto medicine cat when Spottedleaf was too busy to attend to a thorn in the paw or a troublesome bellyache.

Yellowfang mumbled under her breath about her partner's absence for a moment before she paused in her sorting and looked around, her fur beginning to bush out.

“Kit?” She called, her orange eyes roaming the den for a hint of ginger.

Firekit padded a bit closer, studying her bundles curiously. The names of herbs meant little to her, she’d never been particularly interested in learning about them. It wasn’t as if she had any use for healing herbs either.

Yellowfang shivered harder the closer she got.

Tipping her head, Firekit backed up a bit. Since their agreement however long ago, she’d stayed clear of the old medicine cat and her dreams.

She was no longer angry at the molly, it was just that Yellowfang had kept her end of the deal they had so Firekit simply had no reason to invade her dreams.

Perhaps she would soon, if only to talk with someone who didn’t screech at the sight of her.

Yellowfang seemed more used to her presence than her other clanmates. If Firekit gave it enough thought, she might’ve guessed that the elder simply imagined her there once she knew she was in the same area.

She didn’t quite know how Yellowfang always knew when she was lurking about, nor why she seemed to feel the same chill that haunted Firekit but she didn’t question it.

It wasn’t as if she’d get an answer.

Yellowfang cleared her throat then swept her tail, undoing the bundle she was working on.

From it, she pulled a light purple flower. “This is lavender, kit.” She mewed softly, “We used it during vigils or to make herbs taste better. It smells nice, doesn’t it?”

She held the flower up for a moment. Firekit tentatively crept closer and sniffed it. Her senses to this world were dulled but the strong scent still reached her enough that she could enjoy it.

After the moment passed, Yellowfang picked out a berry, explaining its use and rolling it out for Firekit to see.

A glow of graduate lit in Firekits chest as the lesson went on. Herbs were about as interesting as a snail to her but the fact Yellowfang was taking the effort to include her?

Well, It was nice.

She was talking to her as if she could actually see her, though Firekit knew she couldn’t.

Eventually though, she grew bored with their talk. She had no use for knowledge of herbs and they didn’t catch her attention anyway.

Still, she committed Yellowfangs droning to memory. At the very least, to show some appreciation for her inclusion.

Turning back to the entrance of the den, Firekit stepped out into the clearing. Breathing in deep, she took a moment to soak in the peaceful day.

The birds were chirping bravely in the background, singing their songs into the ears of the cats who were tentatively beginning to laze about in the warm sunlight.

The mist of the morning had long since faded away so the clan members had slowly slipped from their dens to enjoy the now crisp, warm, air.

Firekit watched them play and share tongues, her mind wandering as it always did when she let it.

Sandpaw tumbled past her, caught in play fight with Dustpaw. They kicked up the ground, rolling over and over each other.

Firekit dodged out of their path as a stray tuft of moss was tossed straight through her chest, making her squawk with alarm.

“Stars,” she huffed, running a paw over the spot absent-mindedly, “It still gets me.”

Her gliding landed her beside the elders den, where she tucked into the shadows that a stray branch from the old stump created.

It was almost as nice as her nursery nook but the company here was much less exciting than the playful kits that occupied the other den.

“Are you going to the gathering tonight, Smallear?” One-eyes voice croaked from the depths of the stump.

Firekit blinked. It was time for another gathering already? She could’ve sworn they had just had one!

Looking at her paws as she tried to grasp the lost time, she saw how light they had gotten and felt her belly tighten. 

She wondered, for a moment, if she was truly bad at noticing the days pass or if being forgotten snatched the missing time from her memory.

It made her form weaker so it would only make sense her mind became less sharp as well. 

That was a thought she refused to let leave the depths of her thoughts though. It couldn’t be true, that would be far too cruel. No, fading could only affect ones form.

Thinking of her form, she realized that she had yet to feel the pain of fading so only two things could be happening.

Someone was either dying or forgetting.

Flicking her eyes across camp towards Runningwind, she wondered if he’d already forgotten the story that Halftail had told him the day Yellowfang arrived.

She knew it couldn’t be Speckletail or Frostfur. The two nursery queens had minds as sharp as a foxes fang and they never forgot a kit, living or gone.

Swallowing, she pushed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter that much. 

They’d all forget eventually anyway.

Smallears voice rose in an annoyed hiss behind her, “Well, which apprentice do you think should go?” He mewed, “Certainly not that Ravenpaw, he’s brought me wet moss three times this moon!”

Firekit rolled her eyes. She’d missed part of the conversation when she was stuck in her mind but even she knew the tom was exaggerating. He would complain if he received moss from Starclans territory!

Flowing into the den, she sat on the outside of the elders circle, tucking her paws under her chest.

Idly, she listened to their chatter, letting it fade into a mindless, wordless, hum in her ears.

She never really traveled into dens. There was no one for her in them, no, only the leaders den had anything to offer her.

Little moments like these, however, where she could almost fall asleep reminded her just how much she enjoyed it when she did wander into a different den.

“Uhm?” The noise startled her. It was a loud, deep, noise that came from the bottom of a throat. Firekit knew who it was in an instant and simply rolled over.

The sound was one of Rosetails many noises. When she was hungry or needed moss or was confused she would make a few deep calls to alert the cats around her.

It was all she was willing to do, after her hearing had failed her. She could still talk but seemed too embarrassed to try, seeing as her words were always a bit too loud and she couldn’t respond to any questions correctly.

Firekit peeked an eye open as another deep, “Uhm?” Sounded from the elder. Perhaps she was being too quiet to get her denmates attention.

She froze, however, when she realized that Rosetail was not looking at her friends, nor was she trying to catch the attention of a passing apprentice.

She was staring straight at Firekit.

Her yellow eyes weren’t as they had been back when Firekit was warm. With age, they had grown tinted and slightly cloudy.

Now though, Firekit was saddened to see no recognition in the orbs as they slipped from her to the other elders in the den. 

It seemed that, along with her hearing and sharp eyes, times marching had also taken poor Rosetails mind.

Sighing, the kit looked at her dull paws and, again, she knew there were only two causes to it.

She just wished it hadn’t been both.

Rosetail shot her a confused smile as Firekit rose to her paws. A weak one tugged her muzzle and she hoped it was enough to placate the elders unease about her.

Turning, she padded from the den, a bad taste lingering in her mouth at the interaction.

Rosetail had been kind to her, back when she could see her. She’d been one of Bluestars best friends and had grieved for the four lost kits as if she’d birthed them herself.

She deserved better.

Another, smaller worry, tugged Firekits chest. She could feel the same icy chill she always got at it run up her spine but she refused to acknowledge it.

Bluestar had changed yes, but she still had many, many, moons left in her. She wasn’t by any means an elder. So what, if Rosetail was younger than her?

It didn’t mean Bluestar would forget her.

“Stop!” She hissed the moment her dreaded thought came to light. She shook her head hard enough that her ears flapped back. 

Rolling a paw over them, she straightened them, blinking as she clawed apart the last lingering strands of her dark thoughts.

She wished Goosefeather was here. The old tom would comfort her and tell her what she ought to do about the changing clan around her. 

He’d always been a fine listener, even when he didn’t quite recognize who she was.

How lonely it was to only have the company of those soon dead or those who would soon forget you.

Sometimes though, Firekit did blame herself for her intense loneliness. She told herself she had no choice, that she was isolated by the cold leafbare she was forever trapped in.

But the truth was, Firekit could have company. She could go back now and sit beside Rosetail, allowing the molly to see her in her confused, pleasant, way.

Or she could return to the nursery and try to play with the new kits there when they arrived.

Perhaps she could simply use dreams for companionship.

She had her reasons for not doing many of these. She was a nightmare to all who didn’t know her and, even, to the few who had.

The elders, well, she didn’t wish to make them look mad in their last few moons. They deserved more respect than that.

And kits? They grew tiresome. Firekit may forever walk this existence in the body of a young cat but her mind was as old as the senior warriors. Their games grew less and less appealing every season.

However reasonable these were to her though, she couldn’t deny that sometimes, they sounded more like excuses.

“You’ll never guess what else he said!” Graypaws voice drew her attention to him.

The tom was practically vibrating with excitement as he spoke to Ravenpaw.

The little black tom seemed to have been carefully picking the flowers petals from a daisy in his grasp. 

However, at the words, he looked up, “What’d he say?” He asked curiously, his timid voice cracking.

Graypaw immediately spoke, his tail whisking back and forth with excitement.

“We’re going to the Gathering!” He called, letting out a yowl of delight as he bounded up onto the tree stump beside his den. 

One of his back paws knocked a stray piece of bark flying. It hit Ravenpaw on the head and slid down his neck before falling to the ground.

The voices around Ravenpaw shrieked as the piece hit his head and, for a moment, Firekit saw his eyes blow wide and glaze over. He looked through the tom in front of him, stuck in a place none but him could see.

A flash of concern flowed from Graypaw when Ravenpaw didn’t immediately respond to the hit. Tentatively, he reached out a paw, bopping his denmate on the nose.

Ravenpaw jumped with alarm and surprise, and turned on Graypaw. “Watch it!” he hissed crossly, the voices in his mind whimpering and murmuring with leftover fear. 

He shook the scraps of bark onto the ground to join the main piece.

“Scared it might try to hurt you?” Graypaw teased, trying to ease the sudden tension around them. He crouched on the stump and dropped down to creep up to Ravenpaw.

The hissing voices around the black tom quieted some at it, dropping back to become little more than a steady hum.

Ravenpaw twitched his whiskers and retorted, “Some predator you’d make!” He leaped onto Graypaws and rolled him easily onto his back. 

Graypaw reached up from his position stump and gave Ravenpaw’s tail a good tug. 

As Ravenpaw gave a thump to Graypaw with a soft forepaw, the tom jumped to his feet and leaped into him, sending Graypaw flying into the dusty camp floor. 

Both tom-cats tumbled into the dirt and tussled on the ground. Finally they fell apart and settled themselves, panting, beside the tree stump.

Firekit shook her head at their antics, hoping the two would enjoy their first gathering well.

Briefly, the thought of going crossed her mind but she didn’t entertain it long. She’d tried enough new things these last few seasons.

Gatherings held little interest to her. Faceless, nameless, cats outside her small family clustered together and spitting thinly veiled insults at her clanmates seemed about as appealing as eating fox dung.

Keeping to the bramble and gorse barrier, Firekit allowed her mind to wander as the sun slowly stretched across the camp floor.

The blazing light banished shadows, driving them to the edges of camp where Firekit hid among the brambles.

Only when she saw the hint of an amber eye staring at her from the depths of the newly slithering shadows, did she leave the walls.

Bluestar strode from her den and the gathering patrol slowly grouped around her, buzzing with excitement.

Firekit wished them well as they went, hoping the two apprentices among them had fun. 

From what she gathered, the meetings were only exciting the first few times.

Sighing, she made her way to her mothers den, preparing herself to wait until the latest part of the night.

Lionheart caught her gaze as she floated beside the den entrance and she smiled. 

He was flipped on his back, allowing Cinderkit and Thornkit to pummel him. Brightkit was laid in the grove of his throat, purring. Frostfur was lapping at the tiny mollys head, her face content and joyful.

A twitch crawled up Firekits neck and she needn’t even turn to know why, “Why aren’t you with your family?” She sighed out, turning to face Brakenkit.

He stood a little ways away from her, crouched down and trembling at the sight of her.

“I-I-!” He stuttered pathetically, his fur spiking. He was looking to his family then to her and it only took a moment to realize she stood between them.

A twinge of sadness plucked her still heart, “I can’t even touch you Brackenkit,” she soothed, “There’s no way for me to hurt you.”

He shivered some more but shook his head, “I’m not scared.” He mumbled defensively, “I just didn’t want to upset you.”

She smiled lightly at that, a glow of humor blooming in it, “As long as you don’t speak of me, I won’t be upset.” She looked away, her smile dying out, “Most of the cats simply walk through me anyway, it’s actually nice you’d rather go around.”

Brackenkit stared at her, his young eyes intensely dark for someone of his age, “What are you?” He asked at last, as he crept around her, towards his family.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, “I know you can’t really be a kit, you don’t grow.”

Firekit looked at him sadly, “I’m a memory.” She mewed wistfully, glancing into her mothers den, “One you’ll soon forget.”

When she looked back, he had a paw extended, as if to take a step towards her.

At the last moment, though, Cinderkit let out a squeal and he jumped. His paw went down and he took a step back, then another, and another. 

As he backed away, Firekit swore she could see a film clearing from his eyes. Finally, with one more glance towards his family, he dashed away from her.

He didn’t look back.

She stayed there for a long time, waiting for the patrol to return.

The stars were beginning to lighten into dusk by the time they returned. They pushed into camp quietly, the usual muttering after a gathering silent.

Immediately, Firekit was on edge. She drew close to them and hissed as a spike of dull rage shot through her, seeping from the cats around her.

Lionheart was the first to speak, “What will we do with Yellowfang?” He asked quietly, “Brokenstar said she is a danger.”

Alarm twisted in Firekits belly. A danger? Yellowfang had shown nothing but help to Thunderclan, she was no danger!

That blasted leader had lied about her!

Anger replaced the alarm in Firekits belly and she growled low in her chest. He was lucky she didn’t know the way to Shadowclan or he would enjoy some very unpleasant dreams.

“He said there is a dangerous rogue.” Bluestar corrected, “Yellowfang has shown nothing but honor to us and after her warning of Brokenstar, I take little truth from any words of his.”

Firekit nodded in agreement, breathing a little easier now that she knew the molly was in no true danger.

“As for their threat, I will discuss it with the clan after we’ve rested.” The leader sounded tired, “But rest assured Brokenstar will not have Thunderclan territory.”

She walked through Firekit, heading towards her den for a nap. The kit watched her go, wondering what threat Brokenstar had issued.

Perhaps she should’ve gone.

It figured something interesting would happen the one time she actually considered going.

Shaking her head, she stretched out and caught the shadows of the apprentices as they settled in their nests.

Hm.

The rest of the gathering patrol had split up, going to their nests or, in Lionhearts case, preparing patrols.

They weren’t likely to dream of tonight's gathering, even if it was exciting. They’d been to many, it would likely blend in their minds.

Ravenpaw and Graypaw, though?

She glided to their den quickly, peering in. Graypaw was awake, fiddling with a feather in his nest absent-mindedly. His eyes were tired and dull but he seemed to be anticipating something.

She tried to ignore the glint of it in his eyes. Sometimes, she wondered if he was missing something and was waiting for it to come, only for it to never arrive.

Looking behind him, she saw Ravenpaw stretched out in his nest, asleep. He twitched his paws every once in a while and his face pinched with fear at random points.

Firekit drew a bit closer to him and hesitated. Ravenpaw had nightmares often, if she went in, would she be at the gathering or end up being stalked by an adder?

Looking over, she considered waiting for Graypaw to fall asleep but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t seem like he would go any time soon.

Leaning forward hesitantly, she touched her nose to Ravenpaws head and began to pull herself into his mind.

The winding started around her mind, pulling tighter and tighter. For a moment, it held steady, refusing to snap. It was almost as if something was attempting to keep her from entering his dreams.

After a moment in suspension, though, the vine around her head snapped and she opened her eyes.

Immediately she cursed, knowing she’d made the wrong choice.

Tufts of fur flew and blood soaked the warm stones of Sunningrocks. Cats raced past her, completely unaware of her presence as they disappeared into the undergrowth.

Dull and warped, she make out the last echoes of Redtail final call for retreat in the distance.

Padding around the bend of the stones that were soon to fall, Firekit looked around, wondering where in Starclans name Ravenpaw was.

She had been here that day but she had thought all other cats had retreated at this point.

A shuffling caught her attention and she looked over, making out scared green eyes in the shadows of the bushes lining Sunningrocks.

Confusion laced Firekit as she dimly heard the grating of the stones that killed Oakheart. Why was he scared? The fight had been over.

Following his gaze, Firekit tilted her head, fighting the urge to leave. She knew what was coming but something stopped her.

It was a small detail but they were always the most important.

As Redtail rounded the bend she’d just come around, Firekit noticed that while his neck was bleeding, it looked nowhere near as serious as it had been moments before he died.

She only discovered why a few moments later, when the shadows behind Redtail slithered with a wail of hatred and a dark shape leapt from their depths, their eyes shining with malice.

Firekit had been around for seasons, she knew everything about everyone in the clan. They always split their secrets around her, unaware she was there.

It had been many, many, moons since she’d been so horrifically surprised, since she’d been so horrifically _wrong_. Because Oakheart hadn’t killed Redtail. No, he’d only wounded him.

She stood still, her mouth gaped open in shock as she crouched in the bushes of Ravenpaw memories. 

Finally, she could make out the words that the voices around him spat in his ears every night as he tried to sleep.

_‘Tigerclaw killed Redtail!’_


End file.
